John Connor: The Rise of a Hero
by GertrudePerkins9
Summary: Sequel to 'John Connor: A New Hero Born'. A complete reboot for Season 2. Getting familiar with his abilities, John starts preparing for the fight against Skynet. However, some important players in the game are still missing. Very Jameron.
1. First Night and Day

**9\. First Night and Day**

**Foreword**

_This story starts right after where the prequel "John Connor: A New Hero Born" was finished (not counting the Epilogue). It is strongly advised to read that first, otherwise a lot of things in this story might not make sense. For those, however, who want to skip it, I collected John's powers, which he has used so far, at the end of this chapter. _

_No reference to the "Heroes" TV series is planned this time; the "Heroes" part was only necessary to introduce the superpowers. I wanted to create a Terminator/TSCC story, not a crossover. A Terminator story with a superhero John Connor. Still, I hope you like the cover art. ;)_

_This one is rated as "M" because... well, you'll find out why almost immediately when you start reading this story. :)_

_The disclaimer is quite the same here compared to my previous story:_ _I own neither "Terminator - The Sarah Connor Chronicles", nor "Heroes", nor "The 4400", nor any other TV Shows, nor the Terminator or Star Wars movies, nor the Firefly/Serenity universe. To put it simply: I own nothing. :)_

* * *

**Near the 'Broken Atom', Avila Beach, CA, Friday, November 16th, 2007, 2300 local**

"I've got the feeling you're not coming with us," Sarah said.

"Well, can't leave the car here, can we?" John asked with an awkward smile.

"Wipe that triumphant grin from your face, John," Sarah said, but she couldn't help smiling. "I know what it is all about. I'd better not think about it what you're gonna do while we are driving."

John found it was better not to comment on this. "See you later, then. Drive carefully."

"You bet we will," Sarah said, and at the same time John closed his eyes while holding Cameron's hand and they disappeared.

"The return trip will be not as fast for me as the way to here," Wells sighed.

"Certainly not," Sarah replied. "But Kevin, we'll have time to get to know each other a little better."

"True," Wells smiled while Derek started the engine. "It was an honor to meet you, at last, Sarah. And you, Derek. Although I knew the other Derek well, we were friends."

"Now you come to mention it," Derek said, "what happened to me. I mean... me. Not the other Derek, who is obviously your Derek, and who is a teenage boy now and I occasionally watch him playing baseball with Kyle."

"You saw them?" Sarah asked suddenly. "Saw Kyle?"

Derek immediately regretted his slip of the tongue.

"Of course. First, I didn't want to, but I couldn't help finding them. It was very touching when I first saw them. Also very weird. Seeing myself, knowing where the ball would drop in the next moment, knowing which of my throws Kyle would hit the next moment..." He sighed deeply.

"Once I showed them to John as well. On his birthday. Yes, Sarah, I know Kyle is John's father."

"Will you... will you show them to me as well one day?"

"Sure, if you want me to." He sought eye contact with Kevin through the mirror when he was slightly illuminated by an oncoming car. "So, what happened to me in your future. I died, didn't I?"

"Yes," Wells admitted. "You were killed by a Triple-8 when you saved Savannah... I'm sorry."

"It's all right," Derek shrugged. "We'll just make sure it won't happen this time. And what happened to the Triple-8?"

"I know only a few details, but I know it was later terminated by Catherine Weaver. It certainly didn't know she was a T-1001."

"I admit, I'm not particularly eager to meet her," Sarah said. "I still have nightmares. Sometimes dreaming that a liquid metal terminator is chasing us... Not long ago I dreamed passing by a statue in a square. Only when I got real close it went silverish, its hand turned into a spike and impaled me in the shoulder."

She took a deep breath then changed the topic. "I still can't believe you'd run a few miles with a fatal wound, found our house and could write a lot of important stuff on our basement wall with your blood. I saw some tough guys in my life, but you..."

"But without John, I would be dead now," he replied.

"Yes, that's probably true... My dear only son," Sarah said. "He's probably losing his virginity right now. And so is she, apparently."

"They deserve each other, you know that," Kevin said.

"I know, I know. I fully approve of their relationship. Still, there are some details I'd rather not think about."

Derek and Kevin grinned.

"It's fascinating how your future is so different from Derek's future," Sarah said. "And I came to the conclusion that it's mainly because of Cameron."

"Indeed," Wells replied. "But let's not forget about Catherine Weaver and John Henry. John was not a loner in my future but worked in a highly competent team and the Resistance didn't start from scratch. But yes, I would say we would have been lost without Cameron Connor, just as we would have been lost without John Connor."

"What was he like? My son in your future," she asked.

"The resemblance is much closer than I'd expected," Kevin replied. "He was a bit careworn though. Sometimes sad. Losing you, Derek, and a lot of friends for long years marked his face with sorrow. But he was a guy who everybody would die for. He and Cameron. And he didn't change a bit after he was attacked and transformed into a T-5000. He used his abilities when he attempted to transform fatally wounded soldiers into T-3000 but I never saw him shapeshifting, for instance."

"There is one thing that worries me," Sarah said. "Why couldn't they prevent Judgement Day? Derek and I were dead, all right, but John still had Cameron. And that John Henry as an ally not to mention that liquid metal terminator Weaver. And the financial support of her company, that Zorro Corp."

"Zeira Corp."

"Whatever. In Derek's timeline, I was dead also. Cameron told me that I died of cancer. John was completely alone after Judgement Day. But in your future, he was much more powerful and prepared but J-Day still happened."

"I don't know too much about those times," Kevin replied. "John Henry told me once that he was attacked by pre-Skynet. His evil brother, as he put it. The attack left some traces in his system, so later he could identify a chunk of code which he found in most computer systems worldwide. Seemingly nothing happened for two years, then suddenly most systems started to malfunction, computer networks went down, online banking collapsed... In fact, all online things collapsed."

His voice trembled for a second.

"I was thirteen years old on that goddamned day. I vividly remember every detail, every little moment... We saw distant flashes. Then tiny fireballs started climbing up the sky which resembled what we saw in TV documentaries about Cape Canaveral. Only, those things weren't spacecrafts, they were Minuteman ICBMs... Our teacher stopped talking and stared at those shiny objects for a moment... I'll never forget his face... Then, in a calm voice, he ordered us to leave the classroom and to go to the basement, which later turned out to be not as much a basement, but rather a shelter with canned food and lot of water flasks. We complied without panic. The panic came later when the lights went out, the shelter seemed like being shaken by a giant hand, and we heard a huge blast followed by thunder. Peculiar thunder actually, not the same what you hear on a stormy day... Frankly, I'd rather give it a miss for a second time."

"I think neither of us jumped back in time to experience this shit again," Derek agreed.

"We didn't leave the shelter for three weeks to avoid contact with the nuclear fallout," Kevin continued. "But when we did we were all sobbing when we first saw what was left from the city. Then the army came. They were searching for survivors everywhere in L.A. Later, we found out that they were not the regular army, but an irregular one organized by a young couple. The Connors. There was also a redhead around who had a Scottish accent. The little redhead, her daughter, was always with her. Soon we gathered and we were told what this war was about. And also that it wasn't the first time. We learned about time travel and cyborgs who were created by Skynet but defected and joined the Resistance. The information was more shocking than the fact we learned that Mrs. Connor and the Scottish redhead were not human. And to our surprise, there was a third cyborg who otherwise seemed a bit childish sometimes with a silly grin on his face."

He stopped talking for a while. Sarah and Derek waited patiently for him to recall the painful memories as they didn't want to disturb him with questions. The oncoming traffic was light. Occasionally approaching cars were illuminating them for a while then their faces were hidden in the darkness again.

"We had an earthquake a few days later," he went on. "With a friend, we were wandering in the ruins of L.A. searching for food. We were inside the basement of a shop, or rather, something which used to be a shop, when the earthquake hit us. The upper building laid in ruins but some large concrete blocks were displaced by the earthquake and blocked our way so we got stuck inside. We were screaming desperately, but the chances that someone would hear us were slim. Still, soon we saw the two redheads, Catherine, and Savannah Weaver, on the other side of the blocks. We were aware that Catherine was a cyborg, yet we were truly shocked when she formed a shiny crowbar from her hand and easily moved the concrete block away. 'Mommy, I heard screams not far from here, shall we rescue them as well?' Savannah asked. 'Of course darling,' she replied and took the hand of Savannah with her own which was reformed in the meantime. 'You're welcome,' she added with a smirk then they left, hand in hand. We were so flabbergasted that we couldn't say a word. Couldn't even say 'thank you'. It was so surreal."

"Pretty different experience," Sarah said. "Compared to ours with the T-1000."

"Yeah. The only painful memory about her was when she died because we had no cure for the self destroying mechanism Skynet had implanted into her system... I strongly hope John will find a way to save her... with his superhuman abilities."

"Talking about John's abilities," Sarah interrupted, "what was that whole thing with the terrorist group? Would you fill me in?"

Kevin told them their virtual encounter with the Black Jihad group and with their supporter, al-Zahrani.

"So, we emptied his account which was kept for supporting terrorists and transferred some money to our new, well-hidden accounts.

"How much is that _some money_?" Sarah raised her eyebrows.

"157 million dollars."

"What?"

"Yeah, he did it with the help of that bodyless Triple-8."

"Vick?"

"Yes, I think, that is his name. He was also a learning platform to study the inner structure of a T-888 for reprogramming."

"Yeah, he told me after breakfast. But 157 million? And you call it _some money_?"

Kevin just shrugged. "Well, the money is certainly more useful for us than for a crazy terrorist group."

"And what are we doing with the terrorists? We can't let them just go on with their preparation," Derek asked.

"Certainly not," Kevin replied. "John is planning to send anonymous reports to the NSA and the CIA."

"That's a good idea," Sarah said. "I hope they'll know how to handle the situation."

"And what are we doing tomorrow?" Kevin asked.

"You mean today?" Sarah retorted with a smile.

"I always considered that the next day starts only when you wake up," Kevin smiled.

"John hopefully won't be too busy with Cameron so he'll find some time for planning our next move," Sarah quipped.

"Well, I'm sure they are very busy right now," Derek smirked.

Sarah scoffed but couldn't help smiling.

* * *

They appeared in the living room all of a sudden. Carl did not show any sign of surprise.

"Would you check the perimeter please?" John said, still grinning.

"Sure," the Triple-8 said and left the house.

"This trip was amazing, John," Cameron said. "This was actually our first time together."

"Do you want another first time with me, Cam?" John asked.

As an answer, she pulled him close and kissed him passionately while grabbing John's butt with one hand.

Being alone with Cameron John sensed the purring beast in his chest explode and he had the impression his blood was boiling as he felt extremely hot throughout his body. They stopped in the stairs for a moment just to start again wildly kissing. Rushing towards John's room they stopped a couple of times just to continue the kissing occasionally moving from the lips to the face, the ear, and the neck of each other.

As they entered John's room she started undressing and he pulled up her dress, threw it away and trembled with desire as he saw her in bra and panties. She pulled up his T-shirt around his head and stroke his sides with her hands.

John got goosebumps from her touch. With shaking hands, he got rid of his trousers, his boxers and he felt he was going crazy with desire when she touched his erect penis. He was so hard as never in his life. "Like a cannon barrel," he thought. He did two futile attempts to unbutton Cameron's bra but he failed with his shaking hands and she did it herself. She got rid of her knickers so they stood naked in front of each other.

John grabbed Cameron and shoved her against the wall. Pinning her there by her shoulders he started kissing her passionately. She kissed her back plunging her tongue into his mouth and their tongues entwined. He soon broke the kiss then went with hungry kisses for her chin, her cheek, her ear and finally for her neck. Cameron tilted her head and she gave herself up to the yet unknown feeling caused by John's tongue and lips on her neck.

He kissed his way down to her breasts and she couldn't help releasing a small scream as he kissed and sucked her nipples. He went down further eagerly kissing her stomach, then, bypassing her crotch area, her inner thigh.

Cameron felt overwhelmed by pleasure. Even though she didn't need air to breathe she was panting heavily. Warning messages appeared on her HUD indicating sensory overloads. She simply turned it off just when John touched first time her pussy with his lips.

John heard her screaming and felt with all of his sensory and extrasensory perceptions the overwhelming pleasure he caused her. The feeling was overwhelming for him too. Sensing her pussy under his tongue and noticing how she reacted to every tiny movement - that was something entirely new for John and triggered in him almost unbearable lust.

He was eating her out with ravenous kisses on her inner and outer labia switching back and forth with licking her clit, and all over around her pussy. He didn't have any other thoughts he ignored everything else, there was only one thing for him at this very moment: Cameron's lovely pussy, her sweet taste, her reaction for his every touch with the tongue which brought him to such a level of excitement which he'd never felt before.

It was more and more difficult to keep his mouth on target because of her small involuntary movements. He was doing some tender yet fast circles around her clitoris when she tautened convulsively. He heard her screaming, felt her pussy rubbing to his mouth, felt some extra moisture, and sensed the pulsating contractions with his tongue.

That was simply too much for John. When her orgasm subsided he stood up, placed some hungry kisses on her neck, then with a swift movement he plunged into her with all the strength of his suppressed desire lasting for months. She wrapped her left leg around him and moaned with pleasure.

He didn't want to be so vehement, but things seemed to get out of control. How they grabbed each other, their fingers left white marks on each other's skin. His heavy and quick thrusts caused loud thuds on the wall. They were both in trance during their first wild and rampant lovemaking.

It was over soon, shamefully soon, John thought. Cameron quivered, pulled him even closer, quietly screamed and he felt again her rhythmic muscle contractions and sensed her body twitching by the almost tormenting pleasure. Cameron's climax drove him over the edge too and with a groan, he came in her with heavy spurts.

Obviously, it wasn't his first orgasm. He didn't masturbate too often, just occasionally to release the tension. This orgasm with his lover, however, was an entirely different experience for him. First, just for a fraction of a second, it crossed his mind that he'd accidentally stopped the time, but the time was doing fine. John was, however, not aware of how many seconds had passed, not aware of his surroundings, not aware of anything except Cameron as her body was shaking in his arms.

Still keeping himself inside her he held her firmly. They were both panting heavily.

"I'm sorry," John said.

"Sorry? What for, John?"

"I always wanted our first time to be more romantic."

Cameron gave him a sweet smile.

"Oh, John! Trust me, for me it was _very_ romantic. As romantic as it gets," she said and kissed him deeply.

"So, you liked it?"

"What do you think, silly?" she smiled. "Just look at me. I'm still shaking."

John slowly pulled his penis out of her and was captivated by the scene how his semen, leaving her pussy, started flowing down slowly on Cameron's inner thigh.

"But..." she smiled seductively. "If you have other ideas about romantic sex, I can help about that."

She led him to the bed, pushed him down gently and placed soft kisses, first on his throat, then his nipples, going down slowly and thoroughly towards his stomach licking and kissing the skin over the flat muscles of his belly. She took in his half-erect penis licking and swallowing the remainder of the cum. He twitched as his cockhead was still oversensitive. Feeling her unbelievably soft lips around his member, her tongue gently caressing him, and her hand gently massaging his balls made him ready very quickly. Cameron placed herself over him and slowly directed his dick inside her pussy. She bit her lips and closed her eyes as a reaction of the intense pleasure.

She started riding him, making occasionally some tiny circular movement as well, contracting and releasing her vaginal muscles which made him as hard as rock. Her hands went up and down on him stroking gently his shoulders, his chest, and his neck.

John closed his eyes. Being in heaven was an understatement for how he felt. He gave himself up to the pleasure for a while, accepted the joy he was given by his lover. As he got more and more excited, he became more active as well. He adjusted his movements to Cameron's rhythm, grabbed her ass firmly and as she leaned closer he started kissing and sucking her nipples.

She was moaning loudly, her movement became faster and less and less regular. He hugged her with his right hand while he kept holding her ass with his left, sucking her nipples more and more greedily. She responded with a squeak and with a sudden strain with her vaginal muscles she delivered them both.

After a minute he was still hugging her with both hands, kissing gently her breasts. Finally, his half-erect penis slipped out from her vagina followed by a decent amount of cum which landed on his stomach.

He was lying on his back while she was on her side cuddling up to him with one of her legs thrown lightly across his knee. His semen oiled them both.

"Which lovemaking did you like better, John?" she asked while she was gently stroking his hair.

"Which one is better?" he asked back with a smirk. "Deer steak with cranberries sauce or New York-style cheesecake with strawberry topping?"

"I don't understand."

"They both are excellent in their categories. Yet, you cannot directly compare the steak with the cake."

"Thank you for explaining," she said and kissed him. "So, which one is the cake and which is the steak?"

"I don't know. Maybe the first one was the deer stake and the second one was the cheesecake."

"John."

"Yes, honey?"

"Would you freak out if I told you that I'm hungry?"

"I'd be puzzled but wouldn't freak out. Are you?"

"Yes."

She placed his hand on her belly and he felt her stomach growling.

"Wicked," he said. "But how? You don't really have a stomach, do you?"

"I do, actually, something which we could call stomach and serves for digesting food. But this function of me, I mean the growling, was only implemented to make me more realistic. My digesting system doesn't need to growl. It actually belongs to my infiltration protocol. But since your birthday and the explosion it became independent just like my other functions. I feel cold, I can be tired and I can feel hungry."

"Curious," he said. "But not very surprising. Your emotional development, among others, just skyrocketed in the last few days.

"Yes, but I still can't see clearly the connection between being hungry and developing emotions."

"Well, maybe we'll find out together. Wanna eat something? Maybe we find something left in the fridge."

"No, I'd rather stay with you in bed. This is not the urge that I need food as a human does, I just have the feeling that I'd like to taste the foods you'd mentioned."

"But it can wait. I'd rather taste something else," she said lasciviously and started kissing him on his neck and on his shoulder while gently stroking his member then started licking the jizz from his body. John soon felt himself more than ready for the next round.

* * *

"You should have some sleep now," Cameron said after some gentle kissing and enjoying the aftermath of another orgasm together.

"You're right Cam," John said with a yawn then kissed her passionately once more. "But that doesn't mean we're finished."

She giggled. "Certainly not. Good night, John."

"Good night, sweetheart."

Cameron was lying at her side, her head on John's shoulder. He was already fast asleep. She closed her eyes and replayed visually everything since they arrived home. In fact, she only tried to replay but got only to their first lovemaking when John gave her oral pleasure and they had sex in a standing position. She couldn't go on with her thoughts because suddenly she became so horny again that she could hardly control herself. She heard John breathing slowly at a steady pace and she didn't want to wake him up at first. But she just couldn't help placing her hand on him, caressing his belly then touching his dick, fondling his balls. She heard a faint moan even though he didn't wake up. His member, however, definitely did. With a smile, she flung her right leg over him and inserted his dick inside her. A few seconds passed until he was awake.

"Technically, this is rape, you know that?" John quipped.

"Technically, you just shut up," she retorted with a sweet smile and placed a light kiss on his mouth.

They kept kissing, their tongues were fencing. John held her buttock firmly with both hands. Now, their superhuman abilities paid off. Cameron with her advanced sensors and John with his mind and CPU reading capabilities recognized even the tiniest reaction of each other. Their level of arousal, what touches the other liked the most, what actions led to the orgasm faster and what slowed it down. Within a few hours they gained such a deep knowledge of each other that takes weeks, months, or sometimes even years for ordinary couples. Not surprisingly, they reached the orgasm together again.

"Now you really need some sleep, John," she whispered.

But they had sex once more during that night when a decent hard-on made John awake. He woke up only one time again after his peculiar dream. When he was fast asleep Cameron rested her head and one hand on his chest sensing it lifting slowly up and going down and she was listening to his heartbeat. Now, she played back the events in the _Broken Atom_, their first real date, their first kiss, and tears welled her eyes again. This time, she avoided replaying their lovemakings, still, she was certain she was going to do that later countless times to savor every second of their beautiful first night.

* * *

**Saturday, November 17, 2007, Baldwin Hills, 0840 hours local**

Saying that this awakening was the happiest one in John's life is a complete understatement.

"Good morning, handsome," she said while placing her chin onto John's chest.

"Good morning, beautiful," he whispered. "Did you sleep well?"

"No, I didn't sleep," she said. "Apart from a few minutes of maintenance mode. It's not like when I went bad. That night I spent hours in kind of a standby mode. We could call it sleeping."

"I remember that. And I remember how happy I felt when you rested your head in my lap."

"You did?"

"Of course!"

She started gently stroking his arm. "Now I know too what happiness is. Laying by your side... listening to your heartbeat... skin to skin... knowing that you love me... that is happiness," she whispered and tears started to well up John's eyes. "I'm a happy cyborg, John."

"I never felt happier either," he whispered.

They started kissing. Those kisses were not particularly passionate, nor meant to be a part of the foreplay for another lovemaking. Those were just the kisses of mutual unconditional love.

Cameron broke the kiss. "Your mother is coming," she said.

Sarah just knocked on the door but didn't come in. "Hey, are you alive in there?"

"I guess so," he shouted.

"Time for breakfast!"

"Thanks, Mom, coming in a minute!"

* * *

They went down to the kitchen hand in hand and they were warmly greeted by the others. Sarah's infamous pancakes were already on the table. To John's surprise, Kevin seemed to be all right with Sarah's cooking skills as he stuffed himself with the pancakes. Derek, however, showed somewhat less enthusiasm.

"Did you have a pleasant drive from Avila Beach?" John asked.

"Yes, we did," Derek said. "Very mild traffic. I'm sure you had fun meanwhile," ha added absentmindedly.

"No, don't answer that!" he cried when he realized the context.

"I'd better not imagine what you two were doing to each other," Sarah said.

"Yes," Cameron nodded.

"Yes, what?"

"You'd better not imagine."

Everybody laughed, even Sarah.

"But frankly, I'm very glad to see you so happy," she continued. You both are just shining with happiness."

"We are?" Cameron asked.

"It's obvious," Kevin said. "By the way, those are really tasty," he gestured towards the pancakes.

Sarah's eyes narrowed a bit, and everybody was scrutinizing Kevin if he was making fun of her or not.

"What?" he asked. "Did I say something wrong?"

"On the contrary," Sarah answered. "It's probably the first time ever that someone praised my cooking."

"Wrong, Mom, I did it several times," John contradicted.

"Yes, when you were a small boy, very hungry, and had no benchmarks," Sarah said very self-critically.

"Not true, I always liked your pancakes," John said. "Well, your roasts sometimes not so much."

"Yeah, I remember the last time," Sarah said. "But for the record, I was busy calling Sarkissian. You could have really taken out the roast from the stove instead of telling me that it had been ready 18 minutes and 27 seconds ago," she turned her look towards Cameron accusingly. "With your heat-resistant hands."

"I'm sorry," she replied. "You're right. But that's not how I'd act now. Now, I would definitely take out the food when it's ready instead of waiting for you."

Sarah gave her a warm smile. "You changed a lot indeed. Within a few days."

* * *

"Anyone for jogging now?" Derek asked when everyone finished with breakfast. "Neither of you joined me so far."

"Yeah, why not?" Sarah said.

"I think I give it a miss now," Kevin said. "I simply ate too much."

"I don't think it'd be particularly useful for me," Carl said. "Unless you want me to join for security reasons."

"It's not necessary, I think," Sarah said. "How about you two?" she addressed Cameron and John.

"Yeah, why not?" John said. "Let's show them how to run, Cam."

Derek nudged him. "Getting a bit too big for your boots, are you?"

"We'll see," John smirked. He hadn't told them anything about his enhanced speed ability.

"Good idea, John," Cameron said. "Even you should improve your stamina."

"You got complaints about my stamina, Cam?" John grinned.

"It's not about that!"

"Wow, she's blushed!" Derek said. "I've never seen a blushing terminator."

"I have," Kevin said. "A few, actually."

"Did you have a lot of reprogrammed terminators in your future?" Sarah asked.

"We did," Kevin answered. "However, it was like a chess game between TechCom and Skynet. First, we tasered them and removed their chips to reprogram them. Then Skynet started to employ white phosphorus coating on the chips which ignited upon contact with air. Later, we had the idea to remove the chip under water. For that, we developed a device which zapped the terminators every two minutes until we found a bucket of water for chip removal. But as a next step, Skynet randomly used some highly pyrophoric materials which heavily reacted with water also."

"Carl, have you got something on your chip?" John asked.

"No, I don't think so," Carl replied. "I have no sensors there, though. I came from a separate future, where Skynet probably didn't use that treatment on chips."

"Well, I didn't need to remove your chip anyway," John said. "Probably it won't be necessary for the future."

"We still tried to use the underwater method, with precautions," Kevin continued. "After Operation Chrono, however, General Connor had the idea to use nanotechnology. With his scientific staff, they developed nanobots which were injected to the vicinity of the chips when we captured terminators. Those nanobots provided then the interface for reprogramming."

The others listened to him with great interest.

"Skynet experimented with a model, called T-X," Kevin went on. "It was a full endo model without biological sheath but with onboard weaponry. Plasma gun, flamethrower, even a built-in projectile weapon, you name it. Also tools like buzz saw and welder."

"I heard about them in my timeline," Cameron said. "But their outer sheath was mimetic polyalloy. We never met them in combat later, so it's fair to assume that only prototypes were built."

"Yeah, in my timeline the production was stopped after the prototype defected and joined the Resistance. After that, Skynet stopped experimenting with self-aware cyborgs. It had hard lessons to learn. In multiple timelines, it seems."

"And what happened to it?" Derek asked. "The T-X."

"Well, her," Kevin replied. "When the Resistance figured out how to produce mimetic polyalloy, she obtained a humanoid form. A female form actually, and she was called Eliza. Later, she became quite a nice person and she was also a kinda prototype for other T-X-like cyborgs we made in Tech-Com."

Everyone went into their room to change for jogging. Then they gathered in the living room. Cameron wore a tight short and a purple tank top. John needed to concentrate not to have a boner but he couldn't help biting her bare shoulder.

"Ouch!" Cameron cried out. Everyone froze.

"What was that?" Derek asked.

"He bit me in the shoulder!" she said accusingly.

"Not that."

"It was painful!"

Then she understood why the others stared at her.

"Oh. I see... But I don't understand what's happening, that's new for me."

John looked at her apologetically.

"I'm sorry, Cam! I didn't know." He placed a gentle kiss on her shoulder.

"It's all right, John," she smiled at him reassuringly.

"I worry a bit though," John said thoughtfully, "won't it hamper you in combat?"

"No, I don't think so," Cameron replied. "I think it is somehow related to you. Only you. You can cause me pain just as you can cause me pleasure, extreme pleasure. For example, when you..."

"It's okay, we get the picture," Derek raised his hand. "Please, don't go into details."

"I agree," Sarah said. "Let's go running instead."

* * *

"Where to start?" Derek asked when they left the house.

"I would rather not go to the South," Sarah said and gestured with head towards the pumpjacks in the oil field. "There is a path called Jim Webb Trail. Then we'll reach a dirt path which follows Hetzler Road. And we run up on the infamous steps."

"Sounds good," Derek answered. "Hey, we've just started and you're dropping behind?" he addressed John.

"What do you mean behind," he smirked and ran passed them with superspeed. Derek's jaw dropped.

"I should've known you were about to deploy one of your dirty tricks."

They headed towards Baldwin Hills Scenic Overlook. Quite a few people were walking, some running up on the concrete steps from Culver City.

"Not a bad place you'd selected, Sarah," Derek said looking around.

"Actually, I was lucky," Sarah replied. "I saw the ad two weeks ago and I just had the idea to rent a backup safe house as well."

"Now I can see I'm not in one league with you, lovebirds," Derek gestured towards Cameron and John. "But don't raise attention by running up in superspeed."

Cameron frowned. "You don't need to remind us, Derek."

"Really? You won't forget panting, will you? Just keep up the pretense."

"Don't worry, we will even sweat," John said smiling. "Now, let's go."

Of course, they reached the top first, but Derek and Sarah weren't slow either. However, they suffered both from hypoxia, especially Sarah.

"That was tough," she said when she could speak. "Those thousand goddamn steps."

"Only two hundred and eighty-two," Cameron corrected her.

"You really need to be always so pedantic, don't you?"

"Yes," Cameron said with a faint smirk. "It's absolutely necessary."

Sarah laughed a little. It wasn't easy for her because she was still panting heavily.

When they recovered they continued jogging towards the house. There were quite a lot of people around the Scenic Overlook, some tourists, most of them working out, but no one was around on the dirt roads leading to the oil field.

John checked again if nobody could see them, then started off with superspeed. He was so fast that the others couldn't see him running, they saw only the dirt he'd stirred up and felt only the wind he'd generated. He ran around the pumpjacks a few times and arrived back to his family. The entire detour didn't last five seconds. The others looked at him with undisguised envy - even Cameron.

"That's not fair," she said.

"Don't start complaining, Tin Miss," Sarah retorted. "With your servos and with your power cell."

Cameron chuckled. "Fair enough, Sarah."

* * *

"I'd better take a shower. You can use the three-quarter bathroom downstairs, Derek," Sarah said when they stepped into the house. "I'm sure the lovebirds take the other one upstairs," she smirked.

John blushed. "Are you coming, Cam?" he coaxed.

"I wouldn't miss it," she said with a seductive smile.

In the shower, they got aroused very quickly as they were soaping each other. John started fondling her breasts while grabbing her ass with his other hand. As a response, she grabbed his erect penis gently rubbing his frenulum with her index finger. They both were moaning simultaneously. He shoved then his hand between her legs and started caressing her pussy. She started rubbing his dick while pushing her hip hard to his hand.

They were kissing more and more passionately while giving pleasure to each other with their hands. In a few minutes, they were both on the edge. Cameron heard John groaning, sensed his body jerking with her entire body and suddenly felt the warmth in her hand as his cum started to flow between her fingers. The sensation brought her to the climax as well; she grabbed his shoulder heavily, moaned into his mouth while her body was twitching involuntarily.

The sexual tension was released but they kept each other in close embrace and enjoyed together the afterglow of their orgasms.

"We are wasting too much water," Cameron whispered eventually.

"Yeah, let's not forget to turn off the tap next time," John said.

Finishing with the shower they started drying each other with towels. As Cameron touched his genitals with the towel John immediately got a boner again. Cameron giggled.

"Cam, it's not a good idea," John grinned. "Don't get me wrong, I love it when you do it, but I don't want to get too horny again right now."

When they went down to the living room Sarah greeted them with a sarcastic smile.

"Wow, you finished much quicker than I'd expected!"

"We were both very much aroused and we reached the orgasm very quickly," Cameron answered with a very innocent facial expression.

Sarah quickly raised her hand to stop her. "Too much information Tin Miss. Just. Way. Too. Much. Information."

"You started it," Cameron shrugged and John burst into laughter and so did Derek.

"Be much more careful next time, Sarah," he quipped.

She gave him an annoyed look. "I think it's impossible to be careful enough with these two."

"I'm afraid I have to agree," John nodded just to get another annoyed look.

"Okay, let's do some work, shall we?" he said to Cameron. "Let's boot up Vick."

"I have some ideas for improvement," John said when he and Cameron entered his room.

Sitting in front of the heavily customized computer, waiting for it booting up John pulled Cameron closer and put his right arm around her waist. She rested her head on his shoulder and her left hand on his other shoulder.

"So, what is the mission for today," Vick asked finally.

"Surf on the net to find as many relatives of victims of the 9/11 attack as you can. Also, people who were there and are suffering from an illness caused by exposure to dust and toxins at Ground Zero. Especially those who haven't compensated too much so far. I read recently that there are still victims who are sick and worried that they can't afford their bills for treatment. But first, we'll have a closer look at the other bank accounts of al-Zahrani."

John mentally entered again the computer network and easily projected himself through bank firewalls. His eyes were closed and he felt her silky hair touching his face. While maintaining the connection with the banking network he established a mental connection with Cameron as well. And at the same time, he opened himself for her.

It was a strange sensation. Although they were aware of their physical environment, Cameron's eyes were open, so she could watch the monitor, they both felt something they hadn't felt before. It was as Cameron's computer mind and John's human mind had melded together to become a single entity. She could feel his mental strain, his concentration, while he saw all her idle processes running in the background, being now very close to human thoughts. The experience was similar to what he had felt three days before when she frantically tried to regain control, but this time instead of desperation he felt her happiness but also felt some of her concerns, even fears which didn't go away.

He opened himself even more, his heart and spirit. She suddenly realized that she totally knew John Connor. Knew everything about him, his fears, his highest joys, his hopes, and his private sorrows. She saw to the depths of his heart. She always thought she had known John well, but she never knew it was possible to reach such a depth and closeness to another person. Especially when it was between a human person and an artificial person. Never had she known such a relationship could even exist.

Neither did John. He was first so overwhelmed by the sensation that he forgot about their mission for a while. The sensation was so deep that he just couldn't help savoring it for a minute. Enjoying the pure happiness. Then he started to realize what they had just achieved. Apart from the pleasant and romantic nature of opening themselves to each other they had enormous power. John's abilities combined with Cameron's computer brain meant incredible exactitude.

Cameron was also fully aware of what they'd just achieved.

"No power in the Universe can stop us," she whispered.

"Have you got any idea for a name of our so-called hacker group?" Vick asked, interrupting their elation.

"Actually, I have," John replied. "How about Foundation for Law and Government. Abbreviated as FLAG. It's from a TV series. Well, that was a good one. A nice depiction of AI in the eighties with a highly intelligent car."

"Sounds a good idea, John. I like it," Cameron said.

They exchanged a kiss.

"It's much better that you have a girl for an AI, not a car."

"You're right. I definitely wouldn't kiss a Pontiac Firebird."

They both giggled.

"And when we have the list and that motherfucker's bank accounts, we'll transfer the money to the 9/11 Victim Compensation Fund," John said. With the list of less or not yet compensated victims. I hope they will do the rest."

"Only to those? None for your accounts?" Vick asked.

"No," John answered. "We've got more than enough money for now. If we need more I can always produce gold or even diamond."

"All right, I start the searching now," the bodyless Triple-8 said.

"If you're stuck somewhere just let me know and I'll help you get through the obstacle," he said.

"Now, let me show you that I was not just wasting the time while you were working in the powerplant", John said.

They all gathered in the living room and he showed the four thin and about two feet long wooden sticks, he'd prepared earlier. He gave two of them to Cameron.

"Try to hit me with them, Cam," he said.

Cameron shook her head. "I wouldn't harm you, John."

"Don't worry, these sticks won't do any harm," he said. "Besides, if I'm not wrong, you won't be able to hit me no matter how hard you try."

Cameron accepted the challenge. "We'll see," she said.

She tried to hit John's shoulders first from the left then from the right side but both attempts were easily warded off by John. The counterattack came very quickly which she could hardly parry. Attacks, counterattacks, parries came quicker and quicker from both of them until the pace of their fencing was impossible to follow visually by Sarah, Derek, and Kevin. The sound was like a silenced submachine gun fire, they moved back and forth with grace following a choreography they'd never agreed on before. Finally, John shuffled to the right and hit Cameron on the butt.

She frowned and started to hit John in a similar manner, however she hit only the air. The fencing continued until he placed another hit on her buttocks.

"Just you wait, John Connor," she said and attacked him just to suffer yet another hit on her ass from the other side. She lowered her arms.

"Is there a reason, John, why you keep hitting me on the ass?"

"That's because I just love your ass," he replied. "I adore it, I'm fascinated by your butt, so I can't help that your lovely gorgeous backside attracts my hands so much. I love your ass so much that I would rather..."

"Okay John, that's enough," Sarah interrupted him. "Please, continue this discussion elsewhere. Later, when you're alone."

"Sorry mom," he grinned.

"That was a very interesting performance," she said. "Where did you learn that?"

"Here, sitting on the sofa," he replied. "From an old Steven Seagal movie."

"Handy," she said. "I wish I had this ability."

"Yeah, me too," Derek agreed. "So basically, you became a martial artist just watching DVDs while we were at Serrano Point."

"Something like that, yes," he replied. "It's called adaptive muscle memory."

"Adaptive muscle memory," Derek repeated him thoughtfully. "Is it restricted to visual experiences?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean can you couple this ability to another one? Like telepathy?"

"No idea. Why?"

"Because in this case, you could learn some military training just by looking into my head."

John became enthusiastic. "Brilliant idea!"

"Any idea what to start with? You already know a lot, Sarah trained you well."

"Yeah, she did," John said and sent a warm smile towards his mother. "I also had some spec ops training from a crazy Green Beret guy... You're a good marksman, I suppose."

"I think so, yes."

"Well, I probably don't suck on this either, but I miss the sniper skills. I wouldn't fail as a squad designated marksman, but that's all. Are you a trained sniper?"

"Not as good as Kyle was, but yes, I had completed a sniper training as well. I used a .50 Barrett rifle with armor piercing ammo against terminators. And of course, I learned how to hide and how to use camouflage. Those were essential for surviving even if you didn't do sniper missions."

"So, that's the reason you'd picked the Barrett from the weapons cache. Did you use smaller rifles as well? Like .338 Lapua?"

"We had such rifles, but they were not as powerful against terminators as the .50 rifles were. But they were lighter and with full metal jacket I used one sometimes against the T-600s, which were made from titanium, not coltan. Once I hit one almost from a mile distance. We were hiding between the ruins in L.A. and took out an entire platoon of six-hundreds with sniper rifles. Those motherfuckers couldn't figure out our positions and soon they were all scrap metal."

"All right, first thing first," John said. "Concentrate on medium and long distance shots which include heavy scope adjusting, wind correction, elevation, angle, and others."

Derek did so, and John had the strange and vivid feeling as he was absorbing what he saw in his mind's eye.

"I think I got it," he said finally. "Now, it would be nice to test my new skills. But I don't have a sniper rifle... yet."

John and Cameron entered the shed and he showed her the hyperalloy tube he'd made for the pressure test.

"My version of hyperalloy seems optimal for weapon barrels", he said. "But I haven't figure out how to prepare one. I cannot maintain the precision."

"What we did before," Cameron said, "when we hacked together into the banking system. I think that is the solution."

"You mean, I form the material and you have the precise control on me?"

"Exactly."

"That's a... great idea, Cam," John said thoughtfully. "We, together, act as a living 3D printer."

"But I'm not alive," Cameron said with a sad expression on her face.

"Yes, you are!" Jon argued. "I strongly believe that. I've been thinking about that and I came to the conclusion that you are a new life form."

When he saw she wasn't fully convinced he added. "Just think of our first night, Cam! I can't imagine any woman on the face of Earth who'd have been more alive than you. Or remember the shower together."

Cameron blushed, then gave him a broad smile then kissed him on the mouth.

"In this case... do you want me to show you again how alive I am right now?" she whispered seductively and she started gently stroking his crotch area. "Your body is saying you do," she smirked noticing his sudden stiffy.

He grabbed her waist and pulled her closer. Their eyes met from a few inches, then they started wildly kissing.

She unbuttoned his pants while he slipped his hand into hers fondling her buttocks. She shivered and gasped when he started to stroke gently her anus. She grabbed his erect penis giving him a tender handjob.

Suddenly they both stiffened.

"Somebody is coming," Cameron whispered.

"I can hear that too," John said. "Two people."

John was just finished with re-buttoning his pants when the door of the shed flung open.

"Oh, did we interrupt something?" Kevin asked.

"I'm sure we did," Derek smirked. "Why don't you two get a room?"

"We just did," John replied with a silly grin.

"But why here in the shed? Your room is not good enough?"

"Actually we started working here. We just thought we could take a break," Cameron said with an innocent face.

Derek burst out laughing. "Take a break, huh?"

"And what are you working on?" Kevin asked trying to change the subject.

"I'm thinking of weapon designs," John said. "And we actually have an idea," he showed up the hyperalloy tube he'd prepared the previous day. "We just need a design to start with. I'd prefer something simple."

"How about...," Derek started thoughtfully after a few seconds, "John, did you see the Day of the Jackal? I mean the movie. I was about ten when I saw that."

"You mean the older version? Not the one with Bruce Willis."

"No. The remake was good also, but I prefer the first one with Edward Fox."

"I remember," John said. "I liked that too. It quite closely follows the novel."

Then he understood. "Okay, I know what you mean. Perfect idea!"

"Could you elaborate it a bit more?" Cameron asked.

"According to the story, a terrorist organization hires an assassin to kill Charles de Gaulle," John said. "For that, a gunsmith prepares a special sniper rifle which is very simple and very easy to conceal."

"Yes, it contains very few parts," Derek said. "The barrel, the bolt, the stock, the silencer, the screw-in trigger, and the trigger mechanism with a spring. That's all."

"Yes, I remember," John said. "But our model could be a little more complicated than that with slightly higher performance."

"What caliber are you thinking of?" Derek asked.

"Well, in the movie it was .22 Winchester Magnum, I think," John replied. "However, we don't have any of those cartridges and I consider it too weak, anyway. So, I'd opt for the standard 5.56 caliber and simply use the ammo we have for the M4."

"Good choice, I think," Derek said. "The 7.62 would be too strong for a very light rifle like that, I guess."

"The breechblock would be a bit complicated because of the necked cartridge," John said. "And I prefer a handle for the bolt like in a standard bolt action rifle. Just rotating the end of the bolt with two fingers is a bit awkward. A screw-in handle would be good."

Cameron took John's hand. "John, could you concentrate on the design and send it to me telepathically?"

"Sure," John said. He closed his eyes and focused on the rifle. First, in the form, as seen in the movie, then the one with his modifications.

Cameron also kept her eyes closed. "I've got it," she said after a couple of seconds. "I can see the differences. You keep the silencer, the put-in stock but opt for a longer barrel and a trigger guard. The barrel and the breech would be both 22 inches long. Two holes for the trigger guard which would be fastened with a clockwise half turn. We don't have here a telescopic sight though, so we need to buy one when we go shopping."

"Exactly," John replied. He took some of the scrap metal they'd collected and sat back. Cameron sat next to him putting her arm around his waist and resting her head on his shoulder.

Derek and Kevin watched with mouth agape how the piece of metal slowly transformed in John's hand into a tubular form. It was a perfect weapon barrel with the same inner and outer diameter everywhere. Cameron governed John's mental power so the caliber, the rifling, and all fine details were highly accurate with nanometer accuracy. Then the trigger, the trigger guard, the foldable stock and the bolt handle were prepared. They left for the last the silencer and the rail for the telescopic sight.

"Unbelievable," Derek shook his head.

"I can't wait to try it," John said. "Of course, first we need to buy a scope."

"We could look for a quiet place, John," Cameron said. "We've got some tracer ammo. With those, we could zero the rifle and the optical sight much easier."

John nodded.

"Cam, you told me you'd prepare some special ammo for my birthday present. To the Infinity handgun."

"I know you are very good in metallurgy, John, but we need also primer and gunpowder."

John held something in his hands. He closed his eyes for a few seconds and when he opened them he showed his palm to Cameron.

"You mean these?"

She gave him a surprised look. "Yes. Exactly these."

"It's a piece of cake compared to diamonds," he smirked.

"I bet it is... Now, we need to work together again."

"Great! I love it when we combine our powers. It just... confirms that you're my other part."

Cameron kissed him. "And you are my hero."

She cuddled to him and they both closed their eyes.

"So," he said. "You're thinking of a high-explosive incendiary armor-piercing projectile."

"Exactly," she replied. "Like the Raufoss Mk. 211, only in 5.56mm, not .50 caliber. All we need for this is thermite, tungsten carbide, PETN, steel, and copper for the jacket. And all of those in the appropriate arrangement within the projectile."

"Piece of cake," John said.

"Really?"

"No," John quipped. "It's complicated like hell."

"Well, consider it a challenge. And during the production we are together," she coaxed.

"Fine," he sighed. "After all, you're right. Let's get started."

In the next two hours, they produced ammo together. It started slow, but as he gained more and more experience, the time needed to produce a cartridge was strongly reduced. By the end of their joint efforts, they had two magazines, 15 rounds each for the Infinity and two mags with 30 rounds each for the M4 assault rifle.

Derek and Kevin left the shed meantime, but they returned with Sarah and Carl to check the progress. Cameron had an idea.

"Derek, what kind of cartridges have you got for your 40mm grenade launcher?"

"Standard high-explosives. Why?"

"Just as I thought. Not the best type for close range, is it? Especially indoor."

Derek shrugged. "I take cover if necessary."

Cameron shook her head. "It's still dangerous. Do you remember when I saved you from the rogue terminator with a same M79?"

"How could I forget? Especially your dramatic voice afterwards."

He imitated Cameron. "Sometimes they go bad. No one knows why."

"I had special rounds back then," she said ignoring his mockery. "With much less explosive and hardened metal pellets. One shot of that was more than enough for the crazy Triple-8, yet, it wouldn't have endangered even a human user."

"I didn't know that," Derek said. "Could you two prepare some similar rounds?"

"I think so," John replied. "Cam, just send the blueprint in my brain. Oh, and speaking about pellets, we should make armor piercing slugs as well for Mom's shotgun."

They continued working with the ammo. John felt it was more and more easy to manipulate materials at the subatomic level. Soon they had seven rounds for the M79 launcher and thirty slugs for 12 gauge shotgun shells.

"Good job," Derek noted. "If Cromartie appeared suddenly he would be scrap metal within a minute."

"We finished?" John asked.

"Not yet," Carl replied. "Sarah and Derek need combat helmets."

"We do?" Sarah raised her eyebrow.

"Certainly," the Triple-8 replied. "And also flak vests. You have enough firepower now, but you're still vulnerable."

"Okay," John said. "But let's make it three. Kevin needs those too."

With the joint effort of Cameron and John, they soon had three combat helmets. John applied a layered structure with hardened metal and durable plastic which was to absorb the energy of the incoming bullet.

"Now, you're much better protected against a Triple-8," Carl said. "As your protector, I just need to make sure you are."

"Thanks, Carl, I appreciate it," Sarah said.

"Yeah, me too," John nodded. "Now, let's have a look at Vick, whether he's made some progress."

Sarah, Derek, Cameron, and John gathered around the computer which hosted Vick's chip.

"Look what I've found, John," Vick said via the loudspeakers of the computer. Pictures appeared on the screen showing emails with geographical location and photos of a house.

"What's that?" John asked.

"It's al-Zahrani's safe house," Vick replied. "With two guards, a Toyota Land Cruiser, forged passports and a lot of cash and diamonds. Seems like he has an elaborate escape route. I guess, in case of emergency he would cross the Yemeni border and take a plane from there. Or hide there for a while, but I don't have any data about his properties in Yemen. The guards in the safe house have clear instruction to kill everyone who tries to trespass. The truck has a hidden compartment full of weapons."

The pictures abruptly disappeared from the screen and a footage of Barbara appeared instead.

"What's happening," John asked but got no answer.

"I'm sorry, I'm trying to compose myself," Vick replied.

That was very weird to hear from a Triple-8.

"Now, I'm starting to understand what Future John meant by the success of reprogramming," Cameron whispered. "Why scrubbing the memory was necessary."

"Terminator having a conscience," Sarah said. "Sounds intriguing. I mean, not you, Cam, but the less sophisticated models. I was told once that terminators don't feel pity or remorse."

"We learn and evolve when we are in read/write mode," Vick said, displaying again the safe house. Remorse is a consequence. But for me, it starts to reach a level which endangers my mission. I cannot help but think of Barbara, what I'd done to her."

"Not to mention me, and especially my team," Derek said grimly.

New footage appeared on the screen showing Sayles' death and the screen started vibrating.

"You're not helping, Derek," John said in a low voice.

"What do you expect me to say, John?" he quipped. "Shall I give him a medal and hang it on his chip, or what?"

"No. But you should know that the part of his let's say personality which was responsible for his mission including killing you and your team is gone. I deleted every part of it without any traces. The remorse remained though."

"I need more thorough deletion," Vick said.

"I think I can scrub whatever you want," John said to Vick. "But I'm afraid of deleting something important. Which doesn't seem so now, but will be later for some reason."

"We'll need some time then to go through my visual memories and decide what to keep."

"One more important question," John said. "When you tricked me to raise the voltage and tried to get an internet connection via my phone. Did you try to call someone?"

"I know what you mean," Vick replied. "But no. I had no connection here, whatsoever. Skynet sent me back alone with the sole mission to ensure the deployment of the ARTIE system. Unfortunately, because in this case now we'd have a lead. By establishing internet connection I tried to collect information and evaluate my situation. By the way, what happened to the ARTIE system? If it's not destroyed it could be dangerous in the future."

"We brought it down. I wrote a virus and Cameron planted it in the system."

"I see. So, Skynet's plan failed and Barbara died for nothing."

No one said anything and no one could argue with that.

"For what it's worth," Derek said a couple of seconds later. "I believe, Sayles would have stopped her if you weren't around. So she was practically dead ever since Skynet had the idea to rely on her development as its nerve system. We were so desperate to stop it that we could give our lives without hesitation if necessary. Or kill anyone who had a key role in the creation of Skynet."

There was, again, silence.

"Okay, let's focus on our new target," John said finally. "Could you display again the safe house and the truck?"

Vick complied. "In the e-mails, al-Zahrani and the goons mention a small suitcase. That contains one million dollars in cash and some diamonds."

"The house is at the edge of the mountains," John said thoughtfully. He really thought the escape route through. Changes the car then disappears in the mountainous area."

"Unless the car breaks down somehow," Cameron said.

"And I'm sure it will," John smirked.

"Are you planning to teleport there?" Derek asked.

"Yeah. Before reporting his activity here, we travel there and sabotage his escape plans. Wreck his car and his weapons and take the money and the diamonds."

"When we are there we could find a quiet place to test your new sniper rifle, John," Cameron said.

"Good idea," John replied. "However, we need to do some shopping."

"I know a gun store not far from here," Derek said. "On Washington Blvd.

"We shouldn't pick a shop which is that close," Sarah argued.

"Don't worry, Mom," John said. "No one will remember our faces or any details about us after we'll have left the shop. I'll make sure."

"Okay, but for a shopping mall we should choose a more distant one," she suggested.

"Then I'm gonna drive you to one, in South Los Angeles," Derek replied.

"Some more cash wouldn't do any harm for shopping," John said thoughtfully. "Do you know a reliable fence, Derek? I could prepare some jewelry which could be traded for quick cash."

Derek scratched his head. "I know one, but his shop is surely closed today."

"So what? Let's visit him and I'm sure he'll gladly accept my offer."

"I strongly doubt it," Derek argued.

"Why?"

"Because it's Saturday. Sabbath. He is Jewish, and quite religious. He certainly won't touch your diamond stuff until it's sunset."

"Bummer," John said scratching his head. "I have some cash left but need more until we get the credit cards for our new accounts. A good rifle scope starts at two grand. And I want to buy two. One for the small rifle we'd worked on and one for a later one. I'm thinking of a full-fledged sniper rifle with high-performance ammo, large scope bipod for forward rest and a monopod for rear support and for precise adjustments. And much higher performance, say, .338 Lapua."

"We can buy the second scope later, John," Cameron suggested. "A small diameter concealable scope will be enough for now."

"Okay," John agreed. "You and Carl will also need traditional Arab clothing. You can't walk around in Saudi Arabia in a short and tank top."

"All right then," Derek said. "Let's go to the gun store then eat something then buy some clothes to replace those destroyed by the fire."

* * *

Carl stayed home, the other five members of the Connor team sat in the car heading for Washington Boulevard in Culver City.

John turned on the radio. He noticed happily that Metallica was on.

"Wow, I love this song!" Cameron said. She started singing along.

_New blood joins this earth_

_And quickly he's subdued_

_Through constant pain disgrace_

_The young boy learns their rules_

"What?" she asked seeing the slightly shocked facial expressions of the others.

"You sing very well, Cam," John explained, "but it's kinda creepy when you use James Hetfield's voice."

"But it's more authentic this way," she argued. "Don't worry, I wouldn't sing so in public. Only when only you are around."

"Still, it's a bit creepy," John said.

"Fine," Cameron frowned.

_What I've felt_

_What I've known_

_Never shined through in what I've shown_

"That's much better," John smiled. "In fact, it's too good."

In five minutes they stopped in Washington Blvd and entered the gun store.

"Hey, aren't you too young to buy a gun?" the clerk asked pointing to John.

"We're not here to buy guns," John replied. "Only a scope and some tools for leveling."

"For you?"

"No, it's gonna be a present for my Grandpa," he lied.

"How about that one?" Cameron asked pointing to a slim scope.

"Good choice if it's not picked for long-distance shots," the clerk replied.

"No, Grandpa has a 5.56 and he's interested in closer shots," John lied.

"This is a Leupold Mark 6 with a zoom up to six. Very light and accurate. It's actually not as much for hunters but rather for military forces and law enforcement. A bit pricy though, it costs twenty-two hundred bucks."

"No problem, we take it," John said. "And two spirit levels, please."

"You're gonna do the leveling?"

"No, Grandpa is," John lied. "I'm just not sure if he's got all the tools."

While the clerk was put the scope in its box and packed the spirit levels John concentrated on his message which he planted into the clerk's head.

"_What a weird family_," the clerk thought five minutes after they left the shop. "_They might have a Scandinavian origin, that's why the very pale skin and the light blond hair for all of them._ _And even the women were 6 feet tall..._"

* * *

Twenty minutes later they reached their destination. From outside, the mall, with its green corrugated sheet metal walls, seemed more like a cash & carry store than a mall. They left the car in the customer parking lot and went inside.

Cameron, who was in front, stopped suddenly by a Chinese self-service restaurant staring at the Hulatang soup.

"Are you hungry, Cam?" John asked.

"Yes, I am. A little bit," she replied.

"Chinese food?" John directed the question to the others.

Everyone nodded, however, Derek and Sarah showed a bit surprised face.

After lunch, they went separated. John stayed with Cameron, the others went shopping on their owns. For the lovebirds, the visit in the men's wear shop didn't even last five minutes. John didn't take too much trouble with the selection of clothes. Cameron, however, seemed very thorough looking around in the ladies shoe store.

"Which sandals do you like on me most, John?" she asked while showing him two pairs of sandals.

"Sandals?" John asked sheepishly.

"Why not? I like them and I feel I need to vary how I dress sometimes. Therefore I've decided to wear sandals occasionally, not only boots. So, which one do you prefer?" she showed a purple dress sandal with a low heel and a black one with slim straps with a somewhat higher heel.

"Dunno," he said. "Try both."

She put on first the purple, then the black one and walked a few steps in them.

"You look gorgeous in both, Cam," John said. "Why don't you pick both?"

When they left the shoe store, holding hands, John started to realize that the next stop, the women clothing shop, wouldn't be a two-minute visit. Indeed, Cameron, after walking around, picked eight different items and took them to the fitting room.

John made sure that nobody in the shop paid attention to them then sneaked into the fitting room.

"What are you doing here, John?" Cameron hissed.

"I wanted to see you naked."

"But you saw me naked four hours and fifty-one minutes ago," she retorted. "Wasn't that enough for a while? Besides, if we get horny here that would result in unwanted complications."

"Sorry, I couldn't wait," John whispered and started kissing her neck and stroking her side feeling her goosebumps under his fingers.

"John," she said. "John, stop it. Please stop it, before I get really horny as well... What's wrong?"

"Oh, nothing particular," John said while adjusting his pants. "Only a painful hard-on."

Cameron kissed him on the mouth. "Okay. Now, be a good boy, please, and wait outside."

John showed her a sulking face, but they both giggled.

They left the shop with two moderately large shopping bags and they were heading towards the Oriental shop. When they entered they were greeted by a grumpy-looking shop assistant in traditional Arab clothing. Without glancing around, Cameron picked a thawb, and a keffiyeh with agal.

"Those are for Carl," she explained.

For herself, she picked an abayah and a niqab.

The shop assistant watched them with disgust. John didn't need to read his mind, the _white-bastards-are-making-fun-of-us_ facial expression was unequivocal.

"For costume party?" he asked finally with a forced smile.

"Hell, no. Those will be presents," John lied.

The assistant's face softened.

"In this case," he said, "I recommend you something else. The quality of the clothes is significantly better with only a slightly higher price."

* * *

With two more shopping bags from the cosmetics department they were about to leave the mall when John saw a souvenir shop. His attention was caught by a small model of the WTC twin towers, not much larger than 4 inches.

"What's in your head, John?" Cameron asked.

"Well, it wouldn't be nice just to take the money from our terrorist friend without giving something in return, would it?"

"You're evil," Cameron smiled.

"I know," he said and kissed her.

* * *

"I guess, it's better if one of you does this," John, addressed Cameron and Carl who were watching him while he was busy trying to adjust the rifle in a perfectly horizontal position.

Cameron raised the barrel slightly then put a spirit level on the scope rail.

"Just perfect," John said. "Now, let's see the scope."

He tightened the bolts one by one on the rings holding the scope and used one spirit level perpendicular and one parallel to the rifle.

"What do you think?" he asked finally.

Cameron looked through the scope. "It's all right for now," she said. "We can make further adjustments during the test."

"I'm excited," John said. "I've never been outside of the American continent."

"So, what's the plan?" Carl asked while putting on his thawb. "We kill the two thugs, while you look around then take everything useful?"

"Not quite," John answered. "We won't kill them on sight. First, give them a chance. So the rule of engagement: do not attack, wait first for being attacked. Pretend you are lost and ask for information. Meanwhile, I replace the money with our little souvenir."

"Yes, general," Carl said. "And we'll speak Arabic, I suppose." He covered his head with the keffiyeh.

"Exactly," John replied. "I don't know too much about your language skills, but try a dialect which is spoken in Yemen, or near to the East Coast of Saudi Arabia."

"I was programmed to speak only Modern Standard Arabic," he said. "I don't know any specific dialects."

Cameron came in. "I know some Yemeni," she said. She was wearing the abaya and the niqab covered her face revealing only her brown doe eyes.

"Cam, you look gorgeous even in that dress," John sighed.

"Do you want me to wear this more often?" she coaxed.

"No, I didn't mean that. Maybe once in a blue moon... with nothing else under that," he grinned, but his face went serious soon. "We need to go. Now, you know the rules of engagement, let's go over the plan."

"You'll go invisible, and we'll approach the house pretending that our car was broken and we're lost," Cameron said.

"Exactly," John said. "I'll look around inside the house and find the money."

"If you want to be mean with the terrorist, how about upping the ante?" Cameron asked.

"What do you mean, Cam?"

"He will be in a hurry and maybe won't stop for checking the content of the briefcase if he feels the weight."

"Great idea," he said. "How much weight?"

"If it's one million dollars, that is almost exactly ten kilograms, in hundred dollar bills."

"So, we replace the money with, say, stones?"

"Yes. Wrapping in some clothes so they won't make a clash in the suitcase."

"Okay. Suppose the henchmen won't attack you or even they'll help you to find your way. In this case, I need to stop the time then replace the money with stones and wreck the car."

"All right, General," Carl said, "but the chances they remain friendly are slim."

"I know, I know. Still, we need a plan for this option as well... So, are you ready?"

Cameron and Carl nodded. John grabbed their shoulders closed his eyes and they disappeared.

* * *

They arrived at the edge of the desert. Sand dunes behind, small hills in front of them and some trees somewhat closer.

John felt his heart beating fast. He thought again that it was the first time he was outside of the American continent. He'd spent some time in various deserts in his childhood, but this one seemed different. He couldn't describe though what the difference was. Maybe the terrain, maybe the scarce plants. Maybe even the air.

Two hundred yards away they saw a house which they recognized from the photo. The house was almost in the shade of a large boulder.

"All right, I'm going invisible," he said.

The two terminators slowly approached the house. Carl first, Cameron few steps behind.

"Is anybody here?" Carl shouted in Arabic when they were close to their destination.

The two goons appeared in the door. They didn't say anything just started to walk towards the visitors with a wolfish grin on their faces.

"We are lost, and our car is broken," Carl continued. "We'd like to get to Abha."

The grin of the face of the first thug grew even wider. He pulled out a gun and shot Carl twice in the chest. Carl collapsed and didn't move. The goons kept going towards Cameron.

"I'm sorry, but you never gonna reach Abha," the first one said still grinning. "But we'll have fun now. A lot of fun."

He grabbed Cameron's shoulder trying to drag her inside the house. As a response, she caught him by the throat and lifted him in the air. Her eyes flashed red which was particularly creepy because her face was covered with the niqab.

"Wrong answer," she said in a demonic voice.

The second thug, in a complete panic, raised his gun at her and repeatedly pulled the trigger. She used the first one as a shield so all the bullets hit the first thug killing him instantly. The shooter kept hitting the trigger even when the gun was empty. He dropped the gun and turned around to escape... just to bump into Carl who got up in the meantime. His eyes were bright red as well.

"So much for the chances," he said, then broke the neck of the second henchman.

"Idiots," they heard John but they didn't see him as he was still invisible. "Did you notice anybody around?"

"No," Cameron and Carl said simultaneously.

John took a deep breath then activated his superhearing. He was listening to heartbeats which he could have heard even from a long distance. But there was none, only the wind was blowing.

"It's not fair you have better sensors than we do," Cameron said mockingly. John just smiled.

"Now, watch this," he said while pointing to the boulder. They heard a growling sound from the ground, then with a crack, a narrow hole was formed in the rock. They walked closer and saw that it was fifty feet deep with a small cave at the bottom.

"The grave for these two morons," John said.

Carl unceremoniously threw the bodies into the hole. Then John raised his hand again and the gap closed leaving no traces.

"I can repeat a human proverb about you, General," Carl said. "You give me the creeps sometimes."

"And that's not all," John smirked. "There are some more abilities I haven't shown to you. Now, let's get the suitcase."

They went in and after a ten-minute search, they still didn't found the suitcase.

"I guess, what we are looking for is a hidden safe," John said. "If you knock on the wall, can you detect a cavity from the sound?"

"Certainly," Carl said.

Cameron and Carl started knocking on the walls, however, John's eyes were caught by the cupboard which stood at a quite awkward place in the room. He pulled that aside and the safe in the wall exposed itself.

Cameron smiled. "You were always very good at finding hidden safes, John. But I'm afraid, the code is not the date from Judgement Day, this time."

"I don't need the code," John retorted. He reached in the safe through its door and pulled out the suitcase.

"Neat," Cameron said. "I guess, you won't have to make any attempt to find out the combination for the lock."

"Indeed not," John smirked. He reached in the suitcase and pulled all the money and diamonds through the side of the case then he put it in a duffel bag which they took with them.

John gave the bag to Cameron and Carl.

"Measure it," he said. "We need stones with exactly the same weight."

"Wow, there is something you cannot do with your superpowers," Cameron said mockingly.

John just smiled.

While the cyborgs were collecting stones John was busy searching for some clothes to wrap them.

"Why didn't I start with the obvious?" he sighed then opened the cupboard which had covered the safe in the wall.

Finally, he placed the carefully wrapped stones in the suitcase and put the WTC model on top.

"Now, he cannot say we didn't give something in return."

He placed it back through the safe wall and Carl pushed the cupboard into its original position.

"Now, let's destroy the car," he said. "I'm taking out the ignition coil."

"No, I have a better idea," John said. "Why don't you loosen the rear wheel screws so that when he starts the car he won't recognize anything but after a minute the wheels will fall out."

"Good idea, General," Carl said. "He'll lose precious time while running back to his first escape car."

They left the house. Cameron and Carl lifted the Land Cruiser with one hand while loosening the rim screws with the other. They were now estimated to release the rim after the first bump or when taking a curve.

"Excellent! Now, let's find the hidden weapon compartment," John said.

They didn't have to search for it long. The compartment was under the backseat. Inside, they found a MAC-10 submachine gun, a Glock 17, and several spare magazines for both. Furthermore, there were two smaller magazines. John was not familiar with them but Cameron identified them as part of a small Walter PPK handgun.

"The James Bond gun?" John asked.

"I don't know. I haven't seen a James Bond movie," she replied.

"Me neither," Carl added.

"Well, I'll definitely show you some," John said. "Do you have suggestions for the sabotage?"

"I think the most simple is to remove the triggers," Cameron said.

"Okay, and how about the mags?"

"We squeeze them so they won't fit into the guns."

She deformed the spare mags. Not much, but enough to jam when someone tries to load a gun with them. Carl broke the triggers at the root.

After putting back the guns in the compartment under the seat they got out of the car.

"Before we leave for the rifle test, we need to wipe our tracks," John said.

They did so, ending up all in a rocky spot. John held firmly both cyborg's shoulder and they disappeared just to reappear a few miles away, where the terrain turned to hilly.

"That gulch over there will do," John said, showing towards a ravine.

"Good choice, John," Cameron said. "That's leeward, we probably won't need to calculate with the wind."

John assembled the rifle and attached the Leupold scope.

"Okay, let's start with 100 yards then increase the distance from there to 600 yards at 100 yards increments."

Cameron measured the distance and placed seven pieces of wood with paper targets nailed on them at every hundred yards.

John loaded the rifle, went prone on the ground, and used the duffel bag with the money as a support for the stock. He held his breath, kept the cross on the bullseye of the first target then pulled the trigger.

The first shot was slightly off in the 3 o'clock position. John extracted the empty shell and reloaded

"Three clicks will be enough," Cameron said.

"Okay," John replied. "The silencer is not bad though. The shot was not louder than a handclap."

He adjusted the scope and took aim again. The second shot was perfectly in the center.

"Lucky, we all have photographic memories, so we don't need to write down the scope settings," John said.

"We might do later if someone else in the team needs the rifle," Carl reminded.

"Right."

John took aim for the second target. The shot didn't leave the centerline, but it went one inch higher than expected.

"Interesting," he commented.

"That's because your hyperalloy has much less friction as compared to ordinary gunmetal," Cameron replied. "So the muzzle velocity must have been about 10% higher."

"Funny, we didn't even work on the surface treatment," John said. "Next time we could try something like a hardened surface with even less friction... So, four clicks now?"

"Yes."

John adjusted the scope with the top knob then took aim and hit the bullseye perfectly.

For 300 yards distance, he still needed two shots. For the remaining three distances they didn't insist to achieve very high accuracy. Especially for 600 yards, the drop was significant despite the lower friction of the barrel.

"After all, this rifle is not designed for long-distance shots," John noted.

They collected in a pile all pieces of wood with paper targets.

"Step aside," John said to the two terminators.

He unleashed blue flames which ignited the targets and turned them into ashes within five seconds.

"That was creepy indeed, John," Cameron commented.

"Really?"

"We were designed to be powerful," Carl said. "Much more powerful than an ordinary human. Maybe that's why it's eerie to see for us, terminators, a human whose power is almost incomparable to ours."

"But I'm very happy that this human is you," Cameron smiled and gently stroke his head.

John pulled her into a short embrace. His eyes were fixated on Carl's thawb.

"It's quite a pity you've got bullet holes in your garment," John said.

"No problem," Carl said. "It can be fixed. Besides, I didn't have any plan with this thawb after this mission. Cameron's abaya is unscathed though so you can use it later."

"For what?" John asked.

"To put it on without anything underneath. Isn't it what you'd told her before?"

John blushed and decided to leave this question unanswered. "It's time to go home," he said.

He took Cameron's hand, grabbed Carl's shoulder, squeezed his eyes shut then disappeared.

* * *

"John," Cameron said when he came out of the bathroom after a quick shower.

"Yes?"

"I'm extremely horny."

"Well, and what do you propose to do about this intolerable circumstance?" John asked mischievously.

"I have a few ideas," Cameron said slowly approaching John with her eyes wide open.

She pushed him towards the bed and quickly got rid of all of her clothes. He took off his T-shirt while she pulled down his boxers. Now, it was she who got carried away avidly kissing, licking, and gently biting his torso. With his position, John couldn't be very active, yet, he was intensively stroking her hair, her arms, and her back. He noticed that Cameron didn't overdraw a bit how horny she was. Her hand was slightly shaking when she inserted his dick into her pussy and started riding him with quick greedy movements. She obviously found an angle for the optimal stimulation of her clit because she seemed to be completely in a trance as she kept her eyes closed her mouth slightly open while she was loudly moaning.

John was far from the orgasm when she came. It crossed his mind that Cameron, during her climax, was probably the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen.

She dropped her head on his chest, panting heavily, her eyes were still closed.

John waited for a few seconds then grabbed her ass with his both hands and started moving in her. Remembering how he reacted to that, he started rubbing her butthole with his right hand.

Cameron cried out of pleasure and started moving on him. They started kissing wildly, held each other firmly and when they reached the orgasm together with loud cries they both felt like the time was stopped again.

When they breathing returned to normal she got off of him and placed her head onto his arm noticing he was really tired.

"Goodnight, my love," she whispered.

"Good... night... Cam," he replied under his breath. "I... love you."

"I love you too, John," she said but John didn't hear that as he was fast asleep. "I love you, I love you, I love you... There are no words to express how much I love you."

She cuddled up to him listening to his heartbeat. Strangely new feelings flooded her CPU. In fact, it didn't seem so for her any more that those thought and sensations are results of some computations or they are collected from her sensors. Her HUD was switched off most of the day. Feelings and impressions just came and they were gone, sometimes seemingly rather uncontrollably. Most intriguing was, however, her mental connection with John, how they became one entity. In fact, one _extremely_ powerful entity. "What are our limits, John?" she thought. "Are there any at all?"

She smiled and felt that her race to learn had entered into the next stage.

* * *

**Author's notes**: I apologize again for the very long time since the prequel. I still cannot promise too frequent updates but at least they won't last for months. Also, the following chapters will probably be shorter than this one. Consider this one a double episode. :)

I don't think most readers complain about the amount of lemons. But for those who do: just imagine what could happen when two superpowered characters start to discover their sexualities after waiting for each other for some time. Lots of sex. :) In the later chapters lemon scenes will be less frequent, but still enough, don't worry, until I run out of ideas. ;)

I changed the name of the terrorist supporter to al-Zahrani from al-Zawahiri because it coincided with Ayman al-Zawahiri, the current al-Qaeda leader.

Also a huge credit to Anticipation of a new lover's who helped me a lot weeding out bad grammar and typos.

**Appendix**

Now, it might be useful to collect John's powers in order of the first usage.

Rapid Cell Regeneration (self-healing)

Phasing (phase through solid objects, penetrating walls)

Telekinesis (no need to explain this :) )

Electrokinesis (ability to generate electric arcs and manipulate electricity without external sources)

Technopaty (ability to manipulate networks, machines, traffic lights, etc. Not to mention terminator's chips.)

Teleportation

Telepathy (including implanting thoughts like a non-verbal version of persuasion)

Healing

Clairvoyance (ability to sense the locations of others)

Chrysopoeia (ability to change materials by altering their molecular structure at the subatomic level)

Enhanced Memory

Intuitive Aptitude (ability to understand how complicated things work)

Invisibility (in the visible as well as in the infrared range)

Space-Time Manipulation (including stopping the time)

Super Strength

Adoptive Muscle Memory (ability to learn and perfectly replicate any physical motion, without practice, just by witnessing it)

Precognitive Painting (including also painting the past and the present, not only the future)

Super Speed

Terrakinesis (control of geologic materials)

Pyrokinesis (ability to generate and control fire)

Of course, that's not all, there will be more later.


	2. The Mousetrap

**The Mousetrap**

**Sunday, November 18, 2007, Baldwin Hills, 0830 hours local**

As John woke up his first thing to notice was how relaxed he felt. Relaxed, focused, and full of energy. The only thing he missed, however, was Cameron's body heat as she was not lying next to him. He quickly got dressed and went to the kitchen. Derek and Kevin were sitting at the table reading newspapers, Sarah was sitting at the table too, drinking coffee. And Cameron was ... cooking pancakes!

"Smells delicious, Cam," he said and his stomach immediately started to rumble.

"John, you need a carbohydrate that makes up at least 15% of your daily allowance," Cameron said.

"I must admit it's much better than mine," Sarah said.

"I added a teaspoon of vanilla to your recipe."

"I don't have a recipe."

"The recipe on the box."

Everybody burst into laughter, even Sarah. "I won't object if you do the cooking sometimes."

"Yeah! I strongly support the idea," Derek cried out but suddenly he showed a frightened face when Sarah stared at him.

"Not to insult your cooking Sarah, but let's face it, Cameron shows a lot more talent in that regard," he said meekly.

"For what it's worth Sarah, I liked your pancakes too," Kevin said. He turned towards Cameron. "You were an excellent cook in my timeline. You also taught other people how to prepare food in a way that nobody was thinking about its origin."

"We weren't so lucky in my timeline," Derek grimaced. "Chef Cameron wasn't around to prepare delicious rat-steaks for us."

"Oh, I'm truly sorry, Derek," Cameron smiled mischievously. "Do you want me to prepare one for lunch? Medium, rare, or well done?"

"The agony of choice... Cam, you can call me Mr. Unadventurous since I jumped back in time," he replied, "but I think I'll give it a miss this once."

"I don't think either that a cookbook entitled _20 Best Ways to Prepare Ratsteak_ would be a bestseller," John said.

"You're laughing, but it is not so funny in my future," Derek said.

Sarah shivered. "It's hard to imagine," she said. "I just hope it won't happen this time."

"We'll do our best," Carl said. It was the first time he spoke this morning. "We are a powerful team. Powerful but small. It's a pity you don't know more Triple-8s who could be turned to our side."

Sarah slowly raised her head and stared at her son. Then at Cameron. The penny dropped for both of them.

"Carter," John said.

"Carter? Was that the name of the 888 in Depot 37?" Cameron asked.

"Yes," he replied. "I think we should pay a visit."

"What are you talking about?" Derek asked. "Could you please fill us in?"

"Sure," Sarah said. "Back in September we found out that a coltan shipment would arrive. We checked that out just to see an unknown Triple-8 with his human team who stole a truck full of coltan and drove to a military warehouse called Depot 37. It has an enclosed nuclear bomb shelter so it's ideal for Skynet to store production materials for later use."

"And what happened to the 888?" Derek inquired.

"Mom shot him in the head with a shotgun, I drove him over with a truck then Cameron locked him inside the shelter so he couldn't get out anymore," John summarized.

Derek laughed. "Even a Triple-8 has a bad day when he meets the Connors."

"Then I got off cheap so to speak," Carl said.

Now everybody laughed.

"That's right," Derek nodded. "And what is he doing now? Sitting in the shelter lusting for revenge?"

"No, Triple-Eights are not vindictive," Carl argued.

"It was a joke, Tin-Head," Derek said mockingly.

"I see. So in a situation like this, we go into standby."

"Pragmatic attitude," Sarah said with a hint of sarcasm. "If the situation is out of control you just save energy and wait patiently for your chances."

"Exactly."

"That was my guess," John said. "I think he is still standing in the middle of that place in an at-ease stance and needs fifteen seconds to boot up."

"It's very likely, John," Cameron nodded.

"The plan is very simple then," he said. "We approach the place invisibly, go through the wall, I disable Carter and reprogram him."

"Piece of cake?" Cameron asked.

"I hope so."

"Can I have a day off?" Kevin asked. "If you don't need me today."

"Sure," John replied. "What are you planning for today?"

"Just hanging around in the city. And I remember a pawn shop, I'll check it out."

"I suppose it's not the one we got the money from last time," John said.

"No, that's another one."

"In this case, would you mind buying new cutlery sets?"

"Why, John, what's wrong with ours?" Sarah asked.

John collected most of the spoons, forks, and knives. "Nothing wrong, only we've got to sell those," he said, turned all of them into gold and gave to Wells.

"No problem," Kevin said grinning. "See you later," he said then left.

"What?" John asked when he noticed that Cameron was staring at him.

"Why did you send him to a pawn shop when we have the suitcase from our terrorist friend? Filled with money and diamonds."

John scratched his head. "Damn. I completely forgot about the case."

"Never mind, John," Sarah said. "At least, we're gonna have brand new spoons and forks... By the way, Kacy called me not long ago and asked if you could have a look at her TV."

* * *

Charley Dixon pulled off when he saw a gas station. An ancient one which might have been built in the '50s or even earlier. He started pumping the gas, locked the nozzle then went for an ancient-looking windshield wash bucket. "This might have seen even a Tin Lizzie stopped for refueling," he thought. He started washing the windshield thinking of the damn long way to Nebraska which they'd just started while he was trying to seek eye contact with his wife. She was studying the map but soon she realized she was being watched and looked back at her husband. Their eyes met and she gave him a very faint reassuring smile.

This smile warmed Charley's heart. When he finished with the windshield he stepped to a soda machine. "Its grandfather was probably designed by Thomas Chippendale himself," he thought and threw a coin into the slot and took out a bottle.

"Charlie!"

The scream came from Michelle. He started running towards the car just to see clearly Cromartie for a fraction of a second. The terminator started the car, hit the accelerator pedal and the car swung round to the road. He heard Michelle scream his name two more times.

He was frantically running in the stirred up dirt as fast as he could, yelling his wife's name. Finally, he gave up the hopeless chase and stood in the middle of the straight road staring at his car getting smaller and smaller with the distance providing a grotesque view with the locked-in nozzle and the pipe it was dragging behind.

Charley Dixon stood in the middle of the straight road, heavily panting. He felt an invisible iron hand squeezing his stomach. He felt devastated by panic like never in his life. "Michelle," he whispered while holding his head with both hands.

It took him ten seconds until he could start thinking of what to do. Slowly he pulled out his cellphone and dialed the only name where he could get help from.

* * *

John was on all fours under an expensive looking antique chest of drawers Kacy's TV was placed on. Kacy was sitting on the double bed.

"I've only been wanting a TV in here for like a hundred years," she said. "Or maybe two hundred."

"That long, huh?" John asked while he was trying to figure out the problem.

"Well, a while," she said. "Ex-baby daddy wouldn't have one in the bedroom."

She placed her hand on her belly. "Look at where that got me. Well that, six beers, and the rhythm method..."

John had suddenly a vision of Kacy in action. He bumped his head hardly in the drawer.

"Too much information?" Kacy asked with a sweet smile.

"Yeah, a bit," John said but smiled back.

"Do I need to call the cable guy?" she asked. "I feel like I'm not even wired in here."

John held the coaxial cable in his hand and closed his eyes for a second. He concentrated on how to establish the connection with Kacey's TV even for encrypted contents.

"There you are now," he said. "But I wouldn't mention it to anybody." He gave her the remote. "Especially the cable guy."

"Clever boy," she said and started changing between channels.

She froze when she found one with an extremely low budget-looking film with a woman bound to a tree... and George Laszlo with a sword.

"_Beast Wizard, the Kingdom of Fuel will never be yours_," the other swordsman said in the film, who was also half-naked but wore a ridiculous helmet which covered his face.

"_Now, now Seth_," Laszlo said, "_That's no way to treat your brother._" He took a fighting stance, but the film was stopped.

"_Beast Wizard 7_," the newsreader said. "The low budget film nobody saw, when it was released direct-to-video two years ago, has earned 6 million dollars and newfound star status..."

John stared at the screen flabbergasted "That's how he looks like," he thought.

"_...when it's star, George Laszlo, inexplicably killed 20 members of an FBI hostage rescue team in a shootout at his Reseda apartment. The massacre, you may recall, also took the actor's life._"

Kacey stopped the TV. "A friend of mine, from culinary school, did craft services on that movie. She liked the guy. He ate with the crew."

John still couldn't say anything.

"This town can screw you up," she sighed.

Heading home John stopped for a moment. Knowing how Cromartie looked like he made an attempt to locate his position. He closed his eyes and recalled his visual memories upon Cromartie. He concentrated strongly but found nothing. Like he would be nowhere. Then he realized that he in fact tried to locate George Laszlo instead of Cromartie, but he was dead, that was what he sensed. With a sigh, he gave it up and continued on his way home.

When John stepped into the house he saw Cameron standing barefoot in the middle of the living room.

"What are you doing?" he asked.

"This is the absolute center of the house," she said.

John's eyes narrowed. "Aaand?" he asked cautiously.

"The house is moving," she said.

"What?"

"Moving. The east by southeast section of the house is moving."

"Really? Where's it going?"

"Down. At a rate of 0.93 millimeters per year."

"And what," John asked a little confused. "Does that affect the security system or sightlines for the night scope? How does this affect the safety of one John Connor?"

Cameron looked at him with a serious face.

"It doesn't. But next summer we're going to have to repaint."

John started laughing heavily.

"What's so funny, John?" she asked a little irritated.

"You," he said and pulled her into a tight embrace placing kisses on her mouth and her cheek. "You are so cute, and so innocent sometimes. Did I tell you how much I love you?"

"Four times today," she answered. "forty-nine times yesterday."

"Well, not enough," he said. "Certainly not enough. Because I love you. Every day of the week and twice on Sundays."

"Five," she said and kissed him deeply. "And there are no words to express how much I love you." She pulled him even closer. "Besides, today is Sunday."

They held each other in an embrace for a while.

"It's time to go, John," she said finally.

"Okay, we can depart in a minute," he replied then went into the kitchen.

"Did you get Kacy's TV set up?" Sarah asked.

"Yup."

"I hope you didn't utilize too many of your dirty tricks," Sarah smirked.

"Only a few," he replied. "Nobody that pregnant should be forced to watch network television. It's bad for the baby."

"You don't know anything about babies."

"I know they grow up."

"Sooner than we'd think."

"Yeah, I know what you mean... Mom, we're leaving now. Jumping to Depot 37. My phone is now switched off and I'll keep it so during the operation. I'll call you as soon as we're finished."

"All right, John. But take care please."

He gave her a warm smile. "You bet we will."

* * *

Sarah heard her phone ringing. To her surprise, it was Charley.

"Hello? Sarah? He took my wife."

"What? Who? Cromartie?"

"Just help me Sarah! Please! We were just leaving town. And he just... he just took her! I'm sorry, I didn't know who else to call. I tried John first but his phone is off."

"He is on a mission with Cameron."

"Please. Please just help me, Sarah."

Sarah heard from his voice that he was on the verge of complete panic and desperation.

"Where are you now, Charley?"

"I'm just at some fruit stand. It's... It's just somewhere off the 14. Just South of the California City turnoff... I think... Please. I really need your help, Sarah."

"Stay safe, Charley. I'll be there as soon as I can."

She took a deep breath. "Let's go," he said to Carl. "You heard everything?"

"Yes, I did," the Triple-8 replied. "Wait for me, I'm getting the weapons, ammo, flak vests, and combat helmets from the shed."

"Hurry," Sarah said quite unnecessarily.

She found Derek outside checking his weapons.

"Cromartie's got Charley Dixon's wife," she said.

He raised his head in surprise. "Where's John?"

"Gone."

"For the Triple-8?"

"Yeah. With Cameron," she said approaching her car.

"Well, where are you going?" he asked.

"You know where I'm going," she replied. "Come if you want."

"You can't go."

"And yet I am."

"It's a ploy to get John. It's a trap."

"I know that. You don't see John here, do you?"

"We should wait for them."

"No time to lose, Derek."

"It's the absolute wrong thing to do."

"It wouldn't be the first time," she said bitterly. "But we still have Tin-Head."

"Where is he?"

"Over here," Carl said. "Beside yours, I've brought Kevin's body armor and combat helmet. For Charley Dixon."

"How wise," Sarah said.

"I'm constantly improving," the 888 replied with a hint of pride in his voice.

They got in the car and started their journey towards California City.

* * *

They arrived at the McGuire Gunnery Range, near Depot 37. Remaining invisible they slowly proceeded towards the blast door, holding hands.

"_See anything? Or hear anything?_" John sent the silent message to Cameron and he concentrated on his enhanced hearing ability.

Cameron waited for a few seconds with her answer. "_No. Nothing at all._"

"_Me neither. Let's check if there are any electric devices around. Security cameras, bugs..."_

They were looking around thoroughly. Cameron increased the sensitivity of her sensors and checked the electromagnetic signature of possible electronic devices. Meanwhile, John did roughly the same with his technopatic ability.

"_I can sense nothing_," she sent a message to him.

_"Neither can I. Now, we are going through the blast door._"

"_Another first time together,_" she smiled while sending her message to John.

He tenderly squeezed her hand. "_There are still a lot of first times we have before us._"

"_Like flying. Will you take me for a spin sometime?_"

"Sure," he said aloud. "I think we can talk now."

They reached the blast door. "Cam, are you ready?"

"I am."

"Now, I'm emptying my cup."

"Huh?"

"It's from a Zen story. Means that I'm emptying my mind to be able to focus fully on the task."

"Thank you for explaining."

John took a deep breath and felt the satisfying feeling of tranquility. Being watchful, vigilant, without any nervousness. The feeling that he would have the control whatever would happen in the next moment.

They entered the blast door slowly penetrating it having the feeling as they would be trying to proceed forward in a very viscous liquid.

As soon as they got in John instantly felt the dreadful smell of the three partly decomposed dead bodies. He could hardly suppress the urge to throw up the delicious pancakes Cameron had made. He quickly noticed that concentrating heavily on his task helped him to keep out the nasty smell.

Opposite to the door, they saw Carter standing in standby mode. John rushed to him and grabbed his head from behind with his both hands. In 15 seconds he came alive, made a little movement with his head then he stood still again. Only his eyes were moving, following Cameron as she stepped close to them.

"What's happening?" she asked.

"I've made a change for my tactics," he replied. "Instead of zapping him with lightning bolts I've just paralyzed him temporarily from the neck down. So I can do the reprogramming under better conditions... Although it's hard not to puke," he grimaced. "I just forgot we'd have three dead bodies as well in here."

He stopped speaking to maintain a stronger focus. Two minutes later he released Carter's head.

"Okay, you can move and speak now," he said. "In fact, you could have spoken before."

"John Connor," the Triple-8 said. John nodded.

"Did you delete my mission directives?"

"That's exactly what I did. Do you remember everything?"

"Yes, I do. I was to ensure a coltan shipment to be stolen and to be stored here in Depot 37. Now, my internal timer says 67 days have passed after you'd taken away the truck. Did you come back to reprogram me?"

"Exactly."

"How could you do that without removing my chip? And how could you come in? There is no other entrance here."

"I'll show you everything. Now I need to do some modifications to your system."

"Again, without chip removal?"

"There's no need for that. Just stand still."

* * *

James Ellison just couldn't help staring at the TV screen which showed one of the movies of George Laszlo. His phone rang.

"Agent James Ellison, please," a sturdy female voice said.

"Speaking."

"My name is Catherine Weaver, Mr. Ellison," she said. "I'd like to talk to you about an opportunity."

"God, a goddamned direct marketing agent," he thought. He found it somewhat weird that the agent had a Scottish accent. Edinburgh perhaps, he thought. "I'm not interested in any opportunities," he answered.

"A job opportunity, Agent Ellison. I presume you won't be returning to the FBI, once your leave of absence is over."

Ellison found the woman annoying. "How did you get my number?" he asked.

"I'll tell you about it at lunch," she said. "Shall we say... one o'clock? My assistant will give you the information."

"No," he replied. "I don't know who you are. And... um.. I'm very busy."

"You're not busy," she said in an authoritative voice. "Come to lunch. We'll talk about who... or _what_... actually killed your colleagues."

He froze for a moment. The woman hung up. "That was unexpected," he thought.

On the other side, Weaver released a faint grin. The trap had been set.

* * *

Michelle sat in the chair she was bound to. She was hyperventilating from fear. She noticed the presence of Cromartie as she heard he was busy working on something. She heard the noise of torn duct tapes. She tried to look around turning her head as far as she could to check what the cyborg was doing. The terminator who abducted her and who had introduced himself as an FBI agent called Kester a few days ago.

With small jumps with the chair, she was desperately trying to get closer to her bag with her cell phone. She stopped when she heard a loud click. The sound was familiar, yet, she couldn't figure out the source of the noise. She continued with her attempts to get to her bag. Instead of jumps, she was trying to push herself along with the chair making sure not to topple backward. Finally, she reached to her bag. "Come on, come on," she whispered to herself and at last she could grab her phone.

* * *

The rescue team found Charlie at the fruit stand he had talked about.

"Thank you for coming," Charlie said, "but who's this guy?" he asked pointing to Carl.

"I'm Carl. Nice to meet you." They shook hands and Carl flashed his eyes red.

"Holy shit!" Charlie yanked out his hand from the handshake. "Are you a machine too?"

"A cyborg, yes," Carl said.

"Another one?"

"He's with us," Sarah added. "With his help, I think we can outgun Cromartie."

"I'm the new guy in the team," the Triple-8 added.

"Where would he take her?" Charley asked.

"I don't know," Sarah replied.

"Then how are we gonna find her?"

"I don't know," she said again.

"You don't know?"

"No."

"That thing could be watching us right now. We need to go," Derek said.

"It's unlikely," Carl replied. "I've been looking around thoroughly but I've seen no one around. No human or terminator."

"What we need to do is find my wife," Charlie argued, ignoring Carl.

"Look, she won't tell you the truth, but I will," Derek replied. "That thing took your wife to get to John. You think it gives a damn about her? Your wife's dead."

"No, I don't think so," Carl contradicted again. "She is only useful for it if she is still alive."

"I hope you're right, Tin-Head."

"You don't have to be a Tin-Head for that. Just think logical," the Triple-8 said. "Why kidnapping her first, then kill her. It makes no sense."

Just as verification for Carl, Charlie's phone rang.

"It's her, hm?" he said.

"Make sure it's really her," Derek said.

"They can imitate our voices. You need to be sure," Sarah added.

Charlie took the call. "Baby," he said.

"Charlie... Charlie," he heard.

"Honey, are you okay? Are you hurt?"

"No."

"Is-is-is he there with you?"

"Yeah, he's in the next room. I can hear him."

"Where are you?"

"Um, outside Mojave. In an... abandoned building. About four-five miles off the highway."

"The 14?"

"Yeah. There is a billboard for a... I don't know, a law firm. A dirt road runs in front of it. It goes east."

Derek grabbed Charley's wrist.

"Make sure it's her."

"It's her. You think I don't know my own wife?" Charley shouted.

"Charley," Sarah said. "Make sure."

"Yes, you _really_ need to make sure," Carl said using Sarah's voice.

Charley stared at him with mouth agape. First, he almost dropped the phone, then he composed himself and raised it.

"All right, babe. I need you to pay attention right now okay? The first night you and I ever made love, where was it?"

"What?" she said.

"Just answer the question, please. The first time we made love, where was it?"

"Uh, the beach...?"

"Which beach?"

She started crying. "Charley, I don't know... What? Malibu! Paradise Cove."

Charley nodded, a little relieved. "Okay, and what happened at dinner that night?"

"What do you mean, Charley? What do you mean? I don't know."

"Just please, Michelle. Answer. What happened at dinner?"

"Oh, God... The magician took my watch?"

"I love you, baby. All right? Just... We're gonna come get you, just please... just please hang tight... Michelle? Michelle?"

Michelle heard a loud noise and the footsteps of the terminator so she hung up.

They stared at each other with worried faces.

"Let's go," Sarah said.

* * *

Michelle was trembling with fear. Cromartie stood behind her. She was afraid he noticed her phone call but he didn't give a sign he did. Instead, he held a mousetrap in his hand.

"Please," she said crying. "Why are you doing this? Why are you - no, no, no," she cried when noticed him tearing a piece of duct tape.

"Please don't tape my mouth. I won't scream. I swear I won't scream. I won't scream."

"No, with duct tape on your mouth I'm sure you won't," he agreed and put the tape on her mouth.

He pulled back the spring-loaded bar. "In 1897, James Atkinson invented the mousetrap. Its spring slams shut in 38 thousands of a second. It is a record that has never been beaten." He easily lifted her with the chair and placed on the traps. "It is hard to build a better one."

"_Now I understand what this motherfucker told me. Why he never sleeps_," she thought bitterly.

Hearing the faint noise of an engine outside Cromartie went out of the house. He took cover and carefully looked around. He saw the car approaching and Sarah Connor as she was getting out of it with the company of three men. One was Charley Dixon, the second looked very much like a resistance fighter. To his genuine surprise, however, he recognized the third one as a T-888. But there was no sign of Connor's female cyborg. He ducked quickly and went around the house making sure nobody could see him.

They took the weapons from the trunk. Derek loaded his M79 launcher.

"Wait," Charley said. "How do we get inside here?"

"Getting inside's not the problem," Sarah said. She took the Infinity, loaded it, chambered a round, and gave it to Charley.

"Try to hit something metal."

Charley nodded.

"Not me, if I may ask," Carl said.

"Sure," Charley replied a bit irritated. "It's not the first time I have a gun in my hand."

"And take care of it," Sarah added, "this is John's birthday present."

"Nice one. Whom from?"

"Cameron."

"Who else?"

"Safety is on now. Don't forget to turn it off if necessary."

Sarah took her Remington shotgun and loaded it with the armor-piercing ammo John and Cameron had prepared the previous day. Carl did the same with the other Remington 870 shotgun which had no folding stock. He also placed a mag in the M4 and chambered a round. They all put on the flak vests and the combat helmets.

Carefully they were heading towards the house. Carl and Derek were in front closely followed by Sarah. Sarah gestured to Charley to stay a little behind.

Derek cautiously opened the door. Carl stepped in first with his M4 ready to shoot, Derek came closely behind with his M79. In complete silence, using only hand signals they went from room to room searching for Cromartie.

Michelle saw them coming. First, she thought that a SWAT or a spec ops team came to rescue her as the motions of the two men coming in front and that of the women following them closely behind seemed very professional. Then she saw Charley and not without some bitterness she found out that the woman could be only the infamous Sarah Connor. The two men fanned out the moment they were inside the room.

Derek, Carl, and Sarah saw Michelle bound to a chair in the middle of the room. They examined the room very thoroughly; Derek even checked the ceiling while Carl quickly changed the spectrum of his vision from visible to infrared, back and forth.

Derek went around the chair and pointed to the mousetraps to warn the others then he and Carl checked the neighboring rooms. Charley wanted to rush to Michelle but Sarah firmly gestured to stop and to remain silent.

"Clear," Derek said when he came back, "clear," was the response of the Triple-8."

"Don't touch her," Sarah warned Charley when he wanted to remove the ties from Michelle. She carefully scrutinized the object which was taped on one of the chair-legs. She cast a very worried look to Derek who realized that the object was a bomb Michelle was sitting on.

"They never let you have a good day, do they?" he said sardonically with a sigh.

Michelle's eyes radiated intense fear as she was staring at Sarah.

"I'm going to take the tape off," Sarah said. "Don't move... Do not move. You understand? Not one inch."

Michelle nodded and Sarah removed the tape from her mouth.

"Oh, God. Oh God, oh God" she cried.

"Hey, Michelle, listen to me," Sarah warned her. "You're sitting on a bomb. If you move it will go off."

Charley kneed in front of her. "Baby, hey! We're gonna get you outta this chair, okay? And then we're all gonna get outta here. But, just, please. You have to listen to her. Please."

"Where is he?" Sarah asked. Michelle waved with her head towards the other part of the house.

"Let's go," Derek told to Carl and they went towards the adjacent part of the building with their weapons ready to fire."

Michelle started crying. "Just get me out! Get me out of here... Get me out."

"Michelle, please," Charley said. "Baby... shh."

"I'm trying, Charley. I'm trying," she replied very annoyed. "But the more I sit here, the more I wanna stand up. My legs are on fire."

"It's the adrenaline," Sarah noted while intensively focused on the bomb she was scrutinizing.

"I know it's the adrenaline!" Michelle yelled hysterically. "I just have to get up. They're on fire. They're full of ants."

Sarah lost her temper; she grabbed and slightly raised Michelle's head by her chin. "If you move. You will die," she barked at her.

"We all will," Michelle shouted.

Sarah just stared at her and released her chin. It crossed her mind that maybe this rescue operation wasn't a good idea.

Charley attempted to cool her down. "Baby. Look at me. Hey, it's all gonna be alright. I promise."

"No, Charley. It's never gonna be okay," she shouted with venom. "Never."

Charley just couldn't respond and hung his head. He was deeply hurt by Michelle's words.

"There's a bag in the truck. Red handles. I'm gonna need it, Charley," Sarah said.

"Charley," she hissed again when she realized that he didn't listen to her.

Charley stood up and left the house without a word.

"What are you doing here?" Michelle asked in a shaky voice. "I know he brought you. But you didn't have to come."

"Yes, I did," Sarah argued while she kept looking at the cables connected to the bomb.

"For Charley?"

Sarah looked up with an unreadable facial expression. "I just did."

* * *

"How do you feel?" John asked when he was finished with the reprogramming of Carter and his system upgrade.

"I'm trying to find the correct phrase," he replied. "It's not easy. Like I spent my entire existence so far in darkness and someone opened my eyes... Does it make sense?"

"To put it simply: you're free," John said.

"Yes! That's what I feel... You fight against Skynet, right?"

"Right."

"I want to join you... Interesting, it's the first time I _want_ something."

"All right, you're in," John said.

"Just like that?"

"Yeah, just like that. I just _know_ you're telling the truth and not trying to trick me."

"How?"

"The same way I did the removal of the Skynet directives from your system. I have... certain abilities."

Carter seemed to have a curious facial expression and he tilted his head slightly aside.

"Okay, listen," John started and summarized to him what he was capable of.

"That's hard to process," Carter said. "And how about you?" he addressed the question to Cameron. "I don't know what model you are, I can only see you're very advanced."

"Thank you."

"When we fought I calculated I was inferior. If we had kept fighting I would have probably been terminated."

"I agree."

"You are General Connor's soldier? Or bodyguard? Although he doesn't look like a guy who needs a bodyguard."

"She is much much more than that," John said then pulled Cameron close and kissed her.

When she was released from the embrace she showed her left hand to Carter.

"A ring? Are you two engaged?"

Both nodded.

Carter seemed baffled. "Is it possible? A real romantic relationship between human and cyborg?"

"Possible," John said. "It's necessary, however, that the cyborg be self-aware and develop feelings."

"Can I reach the self-aware state?"

"Yes, you can. Actually, you have. You haven't realized it yet but when I upgraded your system I made you self-aware and made sure you would develop a more human-like behavior within a short time."

"You're right. There are some changes in my basic programming which I cannot comprehend yet."

"By the way," John started cautiously, "do you feel guilty for killing those people?"

The cyborg was contemplating the answer for a while.

"Right now, I wouldn't kill them. I don't feel it's right. But I don't think I feel any particular guilt. Those people were greedy petty criminals."

"Then I hope you won't have glitches in your system because of that."

"We need to do something with Clements. He was the fourth member of my team," Carter said. "He might cause some complications. In fact, he might have caused some in the recent two months."

"True," Cameron said.

"Cam, do you know that guy?"

"Yes, he led us to Depot 37. It was not easy to persuade him to help us, though."

"Did this... persuasion... involve violence?"

"Some violence, yes."

"Some?"

"I hit him only once. But I had to warn your mother not to beat him to pulp."

"I see."

"I squeezed his hand a bit when I took away the knife."

"He had a knife?"

"Yes, Sarah gave one to him."

"What?"

"She told him he could go... If he could go past me."

"I see. Suppose he couldn't."

"He was very confident first. I was nice to him because I didn't break his wrist. I knocked him unconscious then he told us the place where the coltan shipment was re-directed. Sarah left him in the middle of a minefield then we rushed here."

"What?" he asked again? "Minefield. It so not mom. She never acted so cruelly."

"You should understand, John, that she was very upset. She feared very much of losing you... So did I, only I didn't give any sign of it."

"It's okay, but leaving someone in a minefield? Knowing that he would probably lose his leg or even die in the next hour?"

"Those were only practice mines, John. Used for mine-warfare training. His leg was not in danger. Nor his life. Only, he was not aware of that."

"I see. It's better then."

"We need to pay him a visit," Carter urged them.

"I assume you know where to find him," John said.

"I do."

"Well?"

"Near the harbor where the coltan shipment arrived. He works as a security guard at one of the large harbor warehouses. He hires a small apartment in Anaheim Street, Harbor City. From here it's more than three hours of drive."

"Of drive, maybe. But we don't need a car."

"What do you mean?"

"Space-time manipulation is also among my powers."

"So, you can transfer our matter from here to Harbor City without traversing the physical space between them?"

"We can teleport there, yes, to put it simply," John smirked.

The Triple-8 cast him a perplexed look then nodded. "All right, let's go."

"Is there anything here in the bunker which could be useful for us in the future?"

"No, I don't think so. Only the truck with coltan was useful but it's gone. What did you do with it?"

"It's on the bottom of the Ocean," Cameron said.

"Pity. We could use coltan later."

"We'll see," John said. "Now, are you ready to go?"

Both cyborgs nodded. John grabbed their shoulders and they disappeared.

* * *

Charley came back with the interrupter and the attached cables in his hand. "He killed the car. We're gonna have to walk outta here."

Sarah watched first the interrupter then the green plastic bomb thoughtfully. Suddenly, her face reflected anger.

"What?" Charley asked.

"It doesn't make any sense," she said. "He messes with the car and not us. We're human. Not that hard to kill."

She quickly caught hold of the bomb.

"Sarah, wait," Charley cried out but it was too late. Sarah ripped off the bomb from the chair leg. Nothing happened.

"Molding clay," she said angrily and threw it aside. "Son of a bitch." She gave Charley a knife. "Cut her free."

Michelle stared at her in utter disbelief. "Was it fake? This whole thing was a fake?"

"He wants John," Sarah explained. "Doesn't have to kill us to get to him. If we're stuck here with no way back. Should have known when you weren't dead."

She took her phone and tried to call John.

"Switched off," she grumbled and started to write a text message.

Derek and Carl looked around carefully in every room of the abandoned house but found no sign of Cromartie. Approaching the window a metal briefcase caught their eyes which was on a dusty table. Carl opened it and they saw that the case was some kind of electronics. The lid was, in fact, a screen with diagrams slowly scrolling horizontally.

"Output of a sound analyzer software," Carl whispered. Abruptly, a muffled sound of a phone call could be heard then soon some text appeared on a window on the screen.

CROMARTIE KIDNAPPED CHARLEY'S WIFE. WE CAME FOR RESCUE. CALL ME AS SOON AS U CAN.

"The motherfucker tapped Sarah's phone," Derek growled in frustration.

The message disappeared just to give place to a second message which contained the location of the house.

They approached slowly the window and sighted a cell phone with a wire taped on it. Derek tore off a piece of board and followed the wire with his eyes.

The wire ended on the cell tower about eight feet high... in a suspicious object.

"Derek," Carl said. "We need to leave this house. Now."

"Yeah, Tin-Head," he sighed. "You're perfectly right."

Abruptly the cellphone started ringing and an LED started blinking on it.

"Run!" Derek yelled. "There's a bomb. Get out! Go, go, go!"

They heard the blast and in the next moment, the larger part of the cell tower fell on the top of the house coming through the roof. Sarah, Derek, and Charley weren't in danger. Michelle, however, would have been hit by an antenna of the tower if Carl hadn't blocked its way. They both fell to the floor; Carl on top and Michelle underneath. She bumped her head into a chair which caused a large bruise on her cheekbone. Her hand was bleeding heavily.

"Everyone good?" Sarah asked. "Everyone good? I'm good."

"I'm fine," Derek and Charley said almost simultaneously.

"Could be worse," Michelle murmured. "Would you please get off of me?" she told to Carl. "You're damn heavy."

"I'm sorry," he said and slowly got up. Michelle stared at him with horror in her eyes. His lower arm was in an unnatural position and a large piece of metal, part of the tower went deep into his back. Piercing through his kidney, Michelle thought.

"Oh, my God," she gasped and pointed to the metal chunk. Carl, showing no sign of pain, followed the direction with his sight and pulled out the debris. "Flesh wound," he said. "My right arm, however, is damaged."

"Don't move!" she cried. "You should lay down, you're heavily wounded."

Instead of an answer, Carl flashed his eyes red which triggered an immediate scream. "God!" she screamed, "you're one of them, too?"

"No, I'm one of you," Carl replied stoically. "But I'm a cyborg if that's what you meant."

Michelle couldn't say anything for a while from the shock then she slowly pulled herself together. "Cyborg or not, you saved my life... Thank you!"

"You're welcome," the Triple-8 replied with a faint smile. "No, let me examine you. All of you."

"The cell tower out back," Derek said. "He blew it. After he tapped your SMS to John."

"He has John's number now," she replied.

"Don't worry about the General," Carl said. "He can defend himself... You three are alright. No sign of injuries."

"Thanks," Sarah said. "But I'm his mother, okay? Allow me to worry a bit."

* * *

As always, they were invisible when they arrived at Anaheim Street. They found an alley where they could turn visible again without being seen by any passer-by. The building with Clements' apartment was in fairly poor condition. They went to the first floor.

"Now, draw your handguns," John said, "but don't use it whatever happens."

"Affirmative," Carter said. Cameron didn't say anything just gave John a peck.

Carter knocked and stood close to the door so Cameron and John couldn't be seen through the peephole. They all heard someone was inside and went to the door just to tiptoe back from there pretending not being there.

Carter knocked again. "Clements, I know you're inside. Open the door if you don't want me to kick it in."

Clements opened it for an inch but did not unlock the security chain. "What the hell do you want?"

He abruptly realized that Carter wasn't alone. When he recognized Cameron, his eyes were filled with horror. He tried to lock back the door but to no avail. Carter held it firmly and broke the chain. They pushed into the apartment and closed the door behind them. Clements was trembling with fear.

"You... you? You're working together?"

Cameron cast him a sweet smile. "Hello, Mr. Clements."

Clements felt panic and concentrated heavily not to wet his pants. He backed towards the middle of the room just to bump into a chair and to fall backward. He got up with panic on his face. "What do you want from me?" he cried.

"What are we doing now, General?" Carter asked.

Clements looked at him in total disbelief that Carter calls a teenage-looking boy 'General'.

"General?" he asked. "Are you behind all this?"

"Depends how you define 'all this'", John said.

"You don't even look like a soldier with this lame hairstyle."

"You've got the point," John agreed. "I need a haircut."

He looked in his eyes. "But we're not here for advice or because I badly need a stylist."

The intense fear came back on Clements' face.

"Please, don't kill me! I... I never said a word about any of you! And I never will... I swear!"

"Nobody knows about our business?" Carter asked.

"Or our little tour ending in the minefield?" Cameron added.

Clements winced. "Never! Do you think I'm an idiot? Broadcasting I was involved in a robbery? No way! And I ain't gonna tell nobody!"

The three visitors exchanged glances.

"He's telling the truth," Cameron said.

"Yes, he is," Carter agreed.

"I can confirm that," John nodded. "Still, we need to make sure he won't be talkative in the future."

"I won't... I won't, I swear!"

"Chill," John said. "We are not here to kill you. Or harm you."

"Then why are you here?"

"Like I said; to make sure you will forget about us forever."

Clements didn't seem to calm down. John eyed him. "Now, you sit down."

Clements complied.

"You feel some dizziness. Soon you're gonna fall asleep shortly. When you wake up in five minutes you're not gonna remember any of us. You won't remember you ever nicked a truck. As soon as you wake up you go to the nearest store to get some food. Do you understand?"

Clements nodded. He seemed dazed. John kept the eye contact and stepped close to him. Finally, he touched his forehead with his fingers and kept the contact for a few seconds.

"Okay, we can go," he said finally.

"General, why did you tell him to go shopping," Carter asked.

"I think I got it," Cameron said. "We'll meet him outside and check his reactions."

John kissed her. "Precisely, Cam."

She smiled. "I have an idea."

They were waiting outside where they could see the entrance of the house. In exactly five minutes Clements appeared and he was walking towards the store nearby, opposite to them. When they were close he didn't give any sign of recognizing them.

Cameron stopped him. "Excuse me, Sir. We're looking for our dog. Have you seen a dachshund puppy around?"

Clements have them a sympathizing smile. "Just left home a couple of seconds ago. I haven't seen any dog. I'm sorry."

She looked sad. "Thank you."

"Not at all. I hope you'll find him."

He left and didn't even look back.

"I think that part went well," John said. "Now, I'm calling mom." He pressed the power button on his phone and waited while his device booted up. After entering the PIN he instantly received a message. "It's Mom," he said and he frowned.

"What's wrong, John" Cameron asked.

He showed her his phone. "Look!"

Cameron frowned also. John was trying to call Sarah to no avail.

"She seems to have switched it off," he said with a sigh. "Now, let me concentrate please."

He closed his eyes and focused on Sarah. He immediately felt her presence... exactly on the same spot which had been given in the text message. He did the same for Derek,... Charlie,... and for Carl. All of them were in the same place.

Suddenly his phone rang. "John?"

"Mom! Thank God!"

"John, how far are you from the pier."

John frowned. Odd question.

"Quite far. Why? Where are you"

"I'm driving now to Santa Monica. You need to go there too. Wait for me."

"No way, I'm not going there. Where are you? On the 14?"

"Between Lancaster and Palmdale. John, stop arguing. Go to the pier."

"No Mom, I definitely won't go there. I'm on my way to the place you'd given the coordinates to. I'm not turning back. Let's meet there in about 15 minutes."

He hung up.

"It was Cromartie," Cameron stated.

"Obviously," John replied nervously. He checked again Sarah's position. She was still at the very same place. "Mom didn't go anywhere. She definitely can't be near Palmdale."

"I think, he tricked them there, destroyed the car and the cell tower nearby."

"That's what I would do," Carter interrupted her. "I saw your mother only for a moment but she seems a threat even for a Triple-8. It's a reasonable tactic to separate her from you if you are the target."

"I agree," she said.

"Mee too," John nodded. "Frankly, I'm a bit worried. Let's go to that tree, that'll give us enough cover for the jump."

* * *

"John!" Sarah cried out when John appeared with his cyborg company. She ran to him and hugged him. Derek, Charley, Carl, and Michelle slowly came out of the house as well.

"Mom, Thank God you're alright... Everybody is alright?"

"Michelle has some bruises and you'll have to fix Carl. Otherwise, we're fine."

"But why didn't you call me? Or why didn't you wait for me?" John asked with a hint of irritation in his voice.

"Your phone was turned off, remember? I left you a message. We had no time to lose. And I thought, together we could cope with Cromartie," Sarah said firmly.

"Mom, that was the worst idea, since JFK said 'The hell with the armored car, I wanna enjoy the sunshine above Dealey Plaza in a convertible'".

"No need to be sarcastic, John," Sarah said. "We needed to act real fast. We are armed well, prepared well, and we have Carl with us. _We need to work sometimes separated. It may come handy if someone protects your six_ \- you said it yourself three days ago. Those are your exact words".

"Fair enough. But Michelle was hurt. And so was Carl. What if things had gone worse?"

"There are no what-ifs. Michelle was saved by Carl because to some degree he could withhold the tower falling on us. He did his job and he did it well. So did you. You arrived in time and you can heal them. So what's your problem?"

"She's got a point, General," Carl said.

"Yes, John," Cameron agreed while she was examining Michelle. "We are a team. If you want to solve all the problems alone, the efficiency of this team is strongly reduced. But you know that already, I think because you can perfectly analyze any situation and predict the outcome. This is one of your abilities."

John raised his hands as a gesture of surrender. "Fine," he said. "I think you're right. Funny, you've been so far overprotective and uptight Mom, now I do the same with you."

"It's alright, John," Sarah said and hugged him again. "I appreciate it."

"Your mission was successful then." Her attention turned towards Carter. "Remember me?"

"I remember everything. You shot me in the head just before running me over by the truck."

"Well, don't take it personally," she shrugged.

"No problem, you did what you had to do. Besides, it's an honor to be shot in the head by the legendary Sarah Connor."

Sarah's eyes narrowed a bit. She wasn't sure if Carter made fun of her or not.

"Did you get rid of all the Skynet codes?" Derek asked. "I just hope he won't flip on us."

"Don't worry about that. General Connor did a very good job. I have no remains of Skynet programs and my system was upgraded."

"We're still not used to having Triple-8s around us, no offense," Sarah added apologetically.

"None taken," Carter said.

Meanwhile, Cameron checked the bruise on Michelle's cheek. "Don't worry, John's coming right now," she said. "Let me see your hand."

"It's okay, Charley had a medical kit in the car."

Cameron gave her a warm smile. "Let me see."

With a sigh, Michelle removed the band and noticed how pleasant Cameron's touch was with her remarkably soft skin.

She smiled at Cameron. "You're a very kind young lady. Are you John's girlfriend?"

Cameron nodded with a smile.

"Aren't you freaked out sometimes by those cyborgs."

Cameron smiled mischievously. "Sometimes, I am. When I look in the mirror, for example." She leaned closer and flashed her eyes blue. Michelle recoiled and screamed.

"But how? How can you?"

John stepped closer trying to suppress laughter. "Having fun, Cam? Now, let me see her injuries."

Michelle hissed and almost yanked out her hand from John's. Strange, as pleasant Cameron's touch was, as unpleasant was his. Hot and painful. To here shock, however, the wound disappeared in a second. She stared at John with her mouth agape.

"Now, your face," he said and soon they saw no sign of the bruise anymore.

She was shocked and it took her a few seconds to realize that Charley was not surprised at all because of John's performance.

"You knew it!" she said.

"Knew what?"

"Knew that John is ... kinda special. That he could heal."

"Ah, he can do a lot more. Can't you, Johnny?"

John smiled and turned his palm upward. Blue little lightning bolts were flashing between his fingertips converging into one point above his palm. "That's for the bad guys," he said.

"There are some others, we'll explain later," Charley said.

"All right, let me look around," John said. Cromartie will be here in less than ten minutes. "I need to fix your elbow as well," he told Carl.

Carl stepped closer. John closed his eyes, took his arm in his hands, and focused on the elbow. The displaced part slowly went back in its original position and the wound healed. Michelle looked perplexed again.

"So, it's a mousetrap, huh?" John smirked looking down again at the remains of the chair Michelle had been bound to. "With me as the cheese in it."

"What are you planning?" Sarah asked.

"Well, let's collect anything from the house which can stop a bullet. For a defensive fighting position. He'll try to mess with me but he might have the idea to attack the house to take hostages again." He gave the second shotgun to Carter. "If this unlikely option happens then wait for him to get close. Carl, you stop him with the M4, Mom, Derek, Carter, you open fire at the body. Try to preserve his chip intact."

"And what is my job?" Cameron asked.

"Inner defense." He turned to Charley. "Charley, can I have the Infinity back?"

"Sure," he said and handled the gun to John who immediately gave it to Cameron."

"And what are you gonna do?" Sarah asked.

"I'm planning a little hand to hand combat," he smirked.

* * *

**Zeira ****Corp, Downtown L.A. 1300 hours local**

Catherine Weaver was sitting by her small glass conference table. Her assistant brought a plate with two glasses of water. James Ellison stood by the window for a while then sat down as well.

"So. You know who I am. You know what happened," he said. "George Laszlo was a shooter. George Laszlo is dead. It's all in the report."

"And yet here you are," she smirked.

Ellison slowly nodded.

"Five years ago, a small commuter jet went down in the Eastern Sierras," she said. "On its way from Sacramento to Portland. My brother was on the NTSB team that investigated the accident. He found these. And brought them to me."

She gave him some photos. Ellison scrutinized them. On the first one, he saw a smoking wreck of an airplane. The second, however, with number '3' depicted a peculiar item. He instantly recognized its origin. A terminator which was destroyed also in the accident. Suddenly he started to realize what this was all about.

"My late husband and I have spent three years and $20 million, trying to reverse engineer this technology. We've not been successful. Yet."

She took a sip from her glass. Ellison looked at the next photo. With number '2' it clearly displayed a metal hand.

"Red Valley, New Mexico. Eight years ago. 22 witnesses report seeing a man with some kind of robot leg, try to kill a boy later identified as John Connor."

"John Connor?"

"Son of Sarah Connor. It was your case. She believed robots were after her son."

"I know what she believed, Ms. Weaver."

She continued. "You know what really killed those agents. You did not even pretend to ask me what those were." She gestured towards the photos.

He felt a bit uncomfortable. "What do you want from me?"

"I want what you want, Mr. Ellison. I want answers." She leaned closer. "But more than that, I want you to help me find another one."

Catherine Weaver didn't want to inform Ellison that the Connors were alive. Not yet. Just as he didn't want to inform her either.

* * *

Cromartie got out of the car and started walking towards the ruins which had been the empty house before the explosion. He couldn't see the humans but felt their heat signature. He inserted the magazine into the MP5 and chambered a round: the submachine gun was now ready to fire.

He stopped cautiously, contemplating his next move. The humans were heavily armed, one grenade launcher and those shotguns were not loaded with birdshot, that was for sure, he assumed. His biggest concern, however, was the unknown Triple-8. He remembered too well Connor's female cyborg protector but had no idea that a 888 was around as well. Checking the area more thoroughly, he saw the unidentified female cyborg as well. To his disbelief, he also recognized - another Triple-8!

He stopped instantly to evaluate the situation and to calculate his chances. The odds had been shifted considerably and they were quite slim. He, alone, against three terminators. Sarah Connor and a resistance fighter hiding in the building, armed to the teeth. He had gotten specific instructions from Skynet to avoid the direct confrontation with Sarah Connor if possible. Skynet was right - their first encounter showed how deadly she was. One moment she seemed a helpless worrying mother and in the next moment she picked a shotgun from a hidden compartment and she had a bulletproof armchair for cover. And on the next encounter, she blew his head off with a strange weapon. The resistance fighter seemed a tough guy too. War veteran maybe with a grenade launcher which would destroy a cyborg instantly if the head or the power cell was hit. He calculated his odds and the result was shown on his HUD. In scientific notation. Meaning that his chances to survive the battle were practically zero. He was outgunned and outnumbered. Worst, there was no sign of Connor.

"Looking for me, Tin-Can?"

He quickly turned around just to see John Connor standing twenty yards behind him. How Connor could approach him without making the smallest noise - he had no idea. He had the troubling feeling that something was odd. Why Connor just walked to him, and why he was unexpectedly calm. A calm Connor who might be hiding something, showing no sign of fear was suspicious too.

Though those concerns slowed him down for a second, Cromartie aimed his submachine gun and opened fire at John Connor while approaching him.

But instead of falling as a consequence of being hit by several bullets he kept standing one arm slightly raised, palm towards Cromartie. The MP5 was empty now, but Connor wasn't down. Instead, he looked totally unscathed. Scanning his surrounding Cromartie just realized that all of the bullets he'd shot were hovering in front of Connor like thirty little metal hornets.

"Oops," Connor said.

Cromartie pulled his handgun ready to continue firing at Connor, but an unknown and overwhelming force grabbed from his hand the gun which landed in Connor's hand.

Connor shook his head. "How about hand to hand combat instead?"

Cromartie stepped close to him intending to grab him by the throat. His hand, however, grabbed the air instead, as Connor evaded his move. He had no idea how it was possible. This human was unexplainably fast. As a next move, he tried to hit him in the face. Connor evaded again but grabbed his wrist this time and Cromartie abruptly felt he was flying as a result of a perfect rotary throw just to land hard on his back. So, Connor somehow mastered Aikido since the last time they met. That's why he was so calm. But he will eventually get through Connor's defense, the cyborg thought, after all, Connor was just a human with inferior physical strength. Cromartie still had no information, however, how Connor could stop the bullets and take away his handgun.

It was less than two seconds when he experienced that his assumption about Connor's physical strength was utterly wrong. As he jumped up, Connor kicked him in the chest. He had no chance to parry, the kick was so fast. Worst, he was flying ten yards backward to land on his back again. He lay on his back for a second, calculating his next move then jumped up and charged again.

John didn't admit, even to himself, how much he enjoyed the fight. The deep gratification for playing cat and mouse with a Terminator who'd been chasing them for a long time and killed a lot of people during the process. When Cromartie came close and tried to punch him in the head he evaded and hit Cromartie's legs with a low rotary kick.

For John's perspective, Cromartie's punch seemed slow, way too slow. He felt as he was placing the kick at normal speed, though the wind was strongly whistling about his ears.

He came up to see Cromartie lying on his back and noticed the dirt he'd stirred up to form a pretty little dust tornado. With a sudden idea, he collected the dirt around him with his mental power and blew it into Cromartie's face at a steady pace when the cyborg got up.

The Triple-8 tried to cover his face and blink the dirt out of his eyes but it kept coming and his vision was blurred. New messages arrived on his HUD:

WARNING: PROBABILITY OF MISSION FAILURE: 99%

ACTION: EVADE. EVALUATE MISSION. FIND CONNOR'S WEAKNESS.

He turned, swept the dust from his eyes and started to run towards his car but Connor suddenly appeared in front of him out of thin air.

"I won't let you chicken out," he said in a low voice.

Evading was not possible. Slim chances or not, he had to accept the challenge.

They were staring at each other for a while. Finally, John broke the silence. "It's not fair, is it? How about this? I get down on my knees. Is this any better?"

Cromartie approached him slowly. He accumulated all his physical strength and unleashed a huge kick towards John's head.

From the outside, the kick seemed threatening. Sarah, and the others, who left the house meanwhile and approached the fighters with weapons ready to shoot, winced instinctively. In the next moment, however, they felt the wind, generated again by John. He evaded the kick grabbing Cromartie's leg and threw him to the ground using his momentum. He didn't release him, instead, he twisted hardly his leg and broke his shinbone with an ugly and huge crack which was as loud as a cannon shot.

Cromartie tried to stand up but to no avail. He crawled a few feet on the ground but stopped when he saw Connor standing next to him. Abruptly he jumped on the cyborg's back and twisted his both arms to his back. Cromartie tried to loosen his grip with all his strength. His servos whined from the overload, still, he couldn't escape even though Connor needed only one hand to pin him to the ground.

Finally, Cromartie gave up. "All right, Connor, you won. You can destroy me now."

"Oh, I'm gonna terminate you, make no mistake but won't destroy you." With his free hand, John pointed to the cyborg's head and with a high pitching sound, he cut a circle in his scalp, exposing his chip port. "I'm gonna reformat your chip and use it with your body to build something against Skynet. What do you reckon? You like the idea?"

Cromartie didn't say anything but unsuccessfully tried to shake John off of his back.

John opened the port. He didn't even need pliers for that. He grabbed the chip firmly. "Hasta la vista, baby," he said then pulled out Cromartie's chip.

* * *

They all gathered around the mutilated body of Cromartie. Sarah suppressed her desire to kick into it. She had a strange feeling when she looked in the empty eyes.

"Are you sure you want to keep the chip, John?" she asked. "I'm just having the urge to place it on a rock and smash it into a pulp with the stock of my shotgun."

"Yeah, me too," he said. "Still, I'm positively sure we have to keep the chip. And the body."

"Johnny," Charley said. "May I have a word with you?"

John looked a bit surprised. "Sure."

"Alright, Tin-Heads, let's repair the car meanwhile," Derek said. The two Triple-8s nodded.

"It's still so unbelievable," Michelle told to Sarah when the three women were alone. "Machines working on destroying the world... Machines on the good side."

"Tell me about it," Sarah replied.

"Cyborgs," Cameron said.

"What?"

"We prefer the term cyborg. We are more than machines."

Michelle smiled at her apologetically. "I'm sorry. You are definitely much more than a machine. If you hadn't told me I wouldn't have believed for a second you were not human... And you're John's girlfriend?"

"I love John and he loves me," Cameron replied.

"And, sorry for the personal question, but are you capable of... you know?"

"We're intimate, yes."

"And how does it work for you. Can you... enjoy it?"

Cameron beamed. "Can't tell you how much! John makes me scream. I can't wait for our next Oral Episode. You know he is a master of Tongue Fu."

Michelle quickly closed her eyes while raising her hand to stop her. Sarah smiled. "I quickly learned not to ask her questions like this."

"Still, I found her bluntness cute," Michelle said. "And you seem to have no problem with their relationship."

Sarah smiled. "You know, four days ago something happened. Cameron exploded and her original Skynet programming took over. She had no control over her own body."

"God, that must have been awful," Michelle gasped.

"She found us and we saw her desperately fighting to get the control back... And then, I could see the real Cameron. Who feared to lose her love. It was maybe the first time she was not hiding behind the stoic terminator façade but she was full of emotions. I realized she was a person. A synthetic person who is sometimes annoying and a pain in the ass but also caring, faithful, and she loves John so much more than any human girl ever could. I'm just happy she's around."

Tears welled in Cameron's eyes. "I love you, Sarah," she said and pulled her into an embrace.

* * *

"I'm listening", John said.

"Johnny, you've got to know that I'm very grateful you came and saved us. I owe you one. You should also know that you are one of the most important persons in my life."

"Just as you in my life, Charley."

"Please don't get me wrong but I'm worried about you. What I saw now... it was not the John I knew. It was something different, something creepy."

"I don't quite follow you, Charley."

"You enjoyed it, didn't you? The fight."

John sighed. "Yeah, to be honest, I did."

"I can fully understand you. The motherfucker gave us a hard time. Chased you through time, killed a lot of agents... Kidnapped Michelle... Still, the cruelty I saw in you during the fight makes me really uncomfortable. The enormous power in your hands involves many responsibilities... Remember what Yoda said? 'Anger leads to hate. Hate leads to suffering.'"

"You think I can end up on the dark side? If it exists, that is."

"I hope not, Johnny, I hope not! Maybe it's not even a real danger, I don't know. But think about what I've said."

"I will," John said simply.

"I'm also curious about what you feel about your first kill."

"You mean do I have remorse that I killed that motherfucker? No, Charley, I do not."

"I didn't necessarily mean remorse..."

"Okay, do you wanna know? Stern satisfaction, that's what I feel. He was a major threat to us and needed to be terminated."

Charley shook his head in disbelief. "You speak more and more like a terminator. Which is kinda weird because Cameron is more and more like a human."

"You weren't there, Charley. Sarkissian had his index finger on the trigger." He slightly raised his voice. "He was about to kill Mom! I had to stop him!" His voice went calmer. "And I did."

He eyed him. "Charley, I'm a soldier. I consider myself one, that is. And we're at war. And even my powers don't guarantee that we will win."

"I can see your point, Johnny," he nodded. "One more thing. Generals and leaders tend to see the masses of people. If you really end up as a military leader try to see the individuals as well."

"Future me is like this," John replied. "Cameron and Derek told me that. But they also told me that caring for people broke him when he lost them. He lost everyone he loved and ended up as a loner."

"I hope you never get into a situation like him," Charley said. "Come here." He gave John a bear hug.

They were both touched. Abruptly they heard the sound of an engine. "Wow, they repaired our car very quickly," John said.

"John, why don't we stop at the gas station where Michelle was kidnapped. I'm quite sure Cromartie's car is still there. You could use it."

"Excellent idea," John said. "By the way, do you know an electronics store somewhere near the road? I need an electric hair clipper."

* * *

"John, did you ever think you would make love to a terminator?" Cameron asked when they left the bathroom.

"Not for a second before I met you," he replied. "But all the time after that."

"Then..." she stopped for a moment, "come with me if you want to fuck."

They both giggled and entered the room. It was dark in there. She pulled him closer and they held each other for a while letting the desire seize them.

"The warm-up was breathtaking," Cameron whispered. "I love so much when you give me oral pleasures. I didn't exaggerate your skills a bit when I told Michelle that you were the master of Tongue Fu."

"You did what? Just how much details did you tell her?"

Cameron chuckled and gave a kiss on his nose. "Not much. She asked if I could enjoy sex and I said I could."

"And, by any chance, did she have the TMI face after you said that."

"She did, how did you know?"

John grinned. "Just guessed."

She stepped closer, their bodies were in contact, their lips met. "Enough talking," she whispered and grabbed his erect penis.

"I agree," he whispered back.

She flung herself on the bed pulling John on top of her. "Now I want this inside of me," she said and squeezed his member a little.

"Ouch," he cried but became even harder.

"Sorry," she grinned and guided his penis inside her. Their faces were only a few inches apart. "So. Speaking about terminator sex," she said and flashed her eyes red.

John chuckled. "That's not what I'd call a turn-on, Cam."

"And how about this?"

She pulled his head closer and kissed him fiercely. Her tongue was intensively searching his lips, his teeth, and his tongue.

"Not bad," he whispered when she broke the kiss. "Not bad at all." He started moving in her tight wetness. As a response, she moaned and wrapped her feet tightly around his hips.

They were getting wild. He drove himself hard in her and went deeper and deeper with every wild thrust, pressing his lips to her, discovering every square inch in her neck with kisses and small bites. When they came together they couldn't suppress the loud moans and screams.

"It turns me on so much when you get carried away," he said.

"No, it turns me on, when you get carried away," she purred.

"It's a chicken and egg problem, then," John smiled.

They both chuckled and started gently caressing each other.

"Aren't you tired, John?" she asked.

"Tired? Me? Are you joking? We're still not over the warm-up stage. I'm even more horny than before."

"So, that's the reason why a remarkably hard object is poking my tummy."

"Exactly."

"Then I redirect this object to where it belongs, if you don't mind."

"Go ahead."

The night was going to be long for them.

* * *

**Author's notes:**

In Season One Laszlo's residence was in North Hollywood, but it was, for some reason in Reseda in Season 2.

Some other loose ends have been tied. I always found it weird for Sarah leaving the guy in the middle of a minefield which was a very cruel move, not typical for Sarah.

Again, big credit to Anticipation of a new lover's who helped me with the proofreading.

I ask for some patience; the next chapter is quite hard to write even though it will probably be shorter than this one.

Reviews, comments are highly appreciated!


	3. Cunning Plans

**11\. Cunning Plans**

**Monday, November 19, The White House, Washington, D.C., John F. Kennedy Conference Room (also known as Situation Room), 0050 hours local**

"Ladies and Gentlemen, I'm really sorry for summoning you at this late hour," Mark Taylor, the President of the United States said. "But as you all probably know, the reason we are here in the Situation Room is that we have a situation. Two situations, actually."

"As I heard, a second bin Laden has emerged so to speak," Anthony Moretti, the Secretary of Defense nodded.

"I'd rather say a potential bin Laden," Sophia Sandoval the Director of the NSA corrected. "Although it seems the guy, called Fahad al-Zahrani also took part in the organization of the 9/11 attack his main activity is to prepare the next attack."

"It seems so," the President nodded. "And he is also a Saudi."

"And he shares the same tribal affiliation with some of the hijackers," Sandoval added.

"Well, I reckon I'll have a nice talk with my Saudi colleague then," Danielle Moore the Secretary of State quipped.

"That's quite necessary," the President nodded. "But that guy also seems to have some connections with the Taliban. By the way, how imminent is the threat? Do we have a task force by hand if necessary?"

"Yes, we do," Anthony Moretti said. "In Diego Garcia two Buffs have been separated for this purpose. Loaded with AGM-154 glide bombs... Buffs are B-52s," he added.

"I know what Buffs are, Tony," the President smirked.

"Of course you do! I just forgot for a moment that you were one of those pilots who protected them."

"No problem," Taylor smiled.

"Excuse me, but what does Buff mean?" Danielle Moore asked.

"It means Big Ugly Fat... Fellow," the President said. "Although a much more common word is used for the final F if you know what I mean."

Of course, he knew very well the Buffs. In the Vietnam war, he flew Wild Weasel missions with F-105G Thunderchief aircraft often to clean the path for the B-52s by suppressing enemy defense. Despite all efforts shit happened sometimes and the President, Lt. Taylor at that time, saw the distant flashes as the warheads of the SA-2 Guideline missiles exploded and heard the calm voices of the pilots who reported that they were hit and needed to jump.

He never admitted but he became an adrenaline junkie at that time. Ironically, he hadn't felt as alive as he was facing death. Death in the form of one... two... three... four shiny objects which were Soviet-made SA-2 Guideline surface to air missiles. Those were always launched in pairs - sometimes two pairs at a time. His job was only to spot the missiles, while his wizzo, the weapon system officer, found the radar source which was guiding the SAMs. A rather delicate part of the mission was to keep the nose of the plane a few degrees higher to lock his AGM-45 Shrike anti-radiation missile. Until he got the lock signal he couldn't see the incoming SAMs. When the Shrike was gone the only question was if the Vietnamese operators turned the radar off in time to lose the missiles. If not the Shrike most likely reached its target, the Fansong missile-control radar.

One day he had simply bad luck with a bold operator. The crazy bastard left the Fansong operational until the very last moment. Taylor started the evasive maneuver, a Split S - stick to one side for a half-roll then a 5-6 Gs half-loop towards the ground - but it was too late and the warhead of the SAM exploded fairly close. The ejection seat was rendered inoperative so jumping was not an option. He was lightly, the wizzo was badly wounded by shrapnel but he could land the wreck at the Da Nang airfield. For saving the plane and the crew he was decorated and later promoted.

"I don't think airstrikes will be necessary," Steve Hayes, the Homeland Security Advisor said interrupting Taylor's thoughts.

"I agree," Henry Cutler, the head of the CIA nodded. "According to the intercepted messages al-Zahrani does not control any Taliban forces at the moment but is deeply involved in their financial support. He used to control one but an air strike knocked them out one year ago. Probably that's why he tried to organize a terrorist group inside the U.S. to get them prepared for a second attack, something like 9/11."

"What do we know about this group?" Hayes asked.

"Nothing we can use against them I'm afraid," Sandoval replied. "To all appearances, they are just law-abiding citizens with immigrant origins. With no police records whatsoever."

"So you can't get them right now," Taylor said.

"Not at all. Those guys are seemingly just as innocent as very innocent lambs from a particularly innocent breed. After all, accepting money, even a large amount is not against the law."

"So you'll have to put them under surveillance."

"We already have. Twenty-four seven. Those guys cannot even buy a box of matches now without us knowing how many sticks are in the box."

"Good. Andy, what is your opinion?" the President asked.

Andy Cooper, the National Security Advisor scratched his head.

"I have a nagging feeling. I usually do when I get information for free. What do we know about our mysterious hacker group?"

"My answer is short and depressing," Sophia Sandoval replied. "Nothing. We don't know a thing. Those bastards didn't leave us a clue. What they did is totally untraceable and how they did it is beyond the skills of our best guys in the cyber team."

"Sounds good," Cooper said with a hint of sarcasm. "Lucky, these guys are friendly to us."

"No one can guarantee that it remains that way," Sandoval retorted. "Although they call themselves FLAG, which is an acronym from an old TV series."

"I remember that; the Foundation for Law and Government," Taylor said.

"You do?"

"Sophia, you'll be very surprised, but even I watch television sometimes. When that series was on, however, I was a senator, not the president."

Everybody smiled.

"The name implies that they don't work against us," Steve Hayes said. "What I don't like is that it also might suggest to some outsiders that they have something to do with us."

"Nonetheless, if the press noses out this group we can honestly deny that they work for the Government," the President argued. "But you are right, the fact that we have no control over them is a bit... unsettling."

"It goes without saying that we've been actively searching for them as well," Sandoval said.

"What if we find them?" Anthony Moretti asked.

"Well, we cannot be offensive in this case. But we'll try to persuade them that they can't go on like this outside the system."

"We could, however, offer them some collaboration with the CIA," Cutler said. "If they obey the rules, that is. Or even integrate them into our cyber group."

"But first the plumbers pay them a visit, won't they?" Anthony Moretti asked with a smirk.

"You're not being funny, Tony," the President said but he also couldn't help smiling.

"Actually, we can't exclude the possibility that this is an international group," Henry Cutler noted. "They went through some defenses that are virtually impossible to penetrate without some local support."

"Excellent," Taylor shook his head. "Despite that, they only transferred money to the 9/11 Victim Compensation Fund."

"That's what we know of," Sandoval argued. "I would be quite surprised if they hadn't stolen some money for themselves."

"But we have no information about that."

"No," she shook her head. "Apart from the VCF we found no sign of transfer of a large amount of money. By the way, the NSF and the CIA should contact the special master and the board of VCF."

"I think it won't be too hard to persuade them to keep their mouths shut," Cutler said.

"Be resolute but not too offensive," the President insisted. "And keep searching."

"Sure we will. The transfer was traced back from bank to bank until it ended up in a loop. Our team is still working on a detailed analysis. It might take several days."

"So, right now we only know that the origin of the money is from our Saudi friend because the FLAG claimed that."

"Exactly. No other proofs."

"And what can we do with Fahad al-Zahrani? In your opinion," the President asked.

"Not too much, I'm afraid," Sophia Sandoval said. "We don't have jurisdiction over his activities in Saudi Arabia."

"I guess we ought to share the information with the Saudi authorities," Danielle Moore suggested.

"We could put him on trial here but the way we got all the pieces of evidence... So let's have them do the dirty work," Taylor nodded. "I'd prefer the entire operation to be kept as top secret."

"Before executing him I hope they interrogate him thoroughly," Cutler said. "And I also hope they'll share the intel with us."

"I think we could put some gentle pressure on them. In a diplomatic way. I'll do that," Moore declared.

**Monday, November 19, 2007, Riyadh, al-Zahrani residence, 0840 hours local**

Fahad Omar al-Zahrani just knew the day would be awesome. It couldn't have started better with his new wife.

The new wife, however, didn't share his good mood. She didn't even seem particularly happy as she was lying in the bed sobbing. She didn't look like someone who is ready to be a wife, by most standards, as she looked more like she really was: a scared fifteen-year-old girl who had just been raped three times and expect to suffer the fourth one.

"No, please no," she sobbed.

"Shut the fuck up you cheeky little bitch," he shouted. "I dug you out of the shithole where you'd lived. I paid a fortune to your father and brought you here to live in luxury. You should be grateful and show some respect!"

She stared at him with horror in her eyes. One of her hands was kept on her womanhood with the futile purpose to reduce the sharp pain. He softened but only a little bit, noticing her fear and the dried blood on her thigh.

"You'll be fine. Just pull yourself together."

He went to the kitchen to prepare his coffee. Those moments were almost sacred moments for him. Not as sacred as the _Salat,_ of course, the prayers Muslims have to perform five times a day. Still, during those minutes, preparing the _quahwa_, no one was allowed to be in the kitchen, no one could disturb him during the process.

He poured water in the _dallah _and placed it under his high-quality grinder to produce the amount of about three spoons of very lightly roasted and very finely grounded coffee. He did the roasting in a pan by himself every week. The coffee, the best he'd ever tasted, couldn't be bought in shops - that came from the small farm of his assistant.

He never knew - and never really cared - why such a talented and skilled man worked like a personal assistant instead of looking for a job as an agricultural engineer, which was his real profession. Probably the money. He paid him a lot and occasionally fed him with promises that he would invest in the coffee business. He never meant to keep his promise though, the guy was a real genius and al-Zahrani wanted to keep him as long as possible.

He closed the lid of the _dallah _and started boiling. Soon, when the fluid started to foam he removed it from the heater, waited until the foam almost disappeared, then boiled it again. He repeated the defoaming two more times and boiled the coffee for a few minutes. From the lovely smell, he could tell when it was ready.

Spicing was essential. He used cloves, cardamom, saffron, and a pinch of ginger then waited again with a closed lid for a few minutes. Meantime he was watching TV in the kitchen. The news was about a Western city where homosexuals were protesting for same-sex marriage.

He shook his head in disbelief. "_Same-sex marriage_... _I don't even know the time when a fag was stoned to death here_," he thought. "_Even this country is getting soft_... _Sooner or later they'll even come to the absurd idea to let women drive cars or something._"

The coffee was ready. For a Westerner, it might have looked more like green tea. So wrong. Its taste was very different from an Italian coffee, though. He never used sugar. Instead, he ate some dates while he was drinking slowly his coffee. It had a strong refreshing effect and soon he felt filled with energy.

When he left the coffee room his assistant, Alem Aldakhil stood there awaiting orders.

"Make sure everyone gets the message for the business meeting," al-Zahrani barked to Alem. "I need to go to the bank first. They said it's urgent."

"Yes, _sayidi_," Alem nodded. He always addressed his boss with the honorific title which is somewhat close to 'Sir' but more respectful.

Fahad al-Zahrani just nodded then left the house.

Yes, this day was going to be a perfect one!

**Monday, November 19, 2007, Connor residence, Baldwin Hills, 0920 hours local**

John woke up with the pleasant feeling of Cameron's silky hair on his belly and how she placed gentle kisses on his stomach. He stirred and noticed his cock to be rock-hard.

Cameron giggled. "Good morning... for both of you."

"Morning, Cam," he mumbled.

"Sorry for waking you up, sleepyhead, but it's quite late and I need to go to the school. You know, the homeschooling stuff for me needs to be arranged. We need to check the police records for Cromartie's car. Moreover, we need to check his visual records. That might take several hours. Not to mention working on Vick, improving your knowledge of material science, adjusting our phones to satellite communication and...

"Alright, alright, I get it. Yet, do we have time for another quick Oral Episode?" John asked while started kissing her fingers, slowly moving forward to her arm.

"Nah, I don't think so," Cameron said but she gasped when John kissed her neck and approached her belly. "Well, maybe."

With eager kisses, he went to her hip, her thigh, and kissed his way to her foot. Then he stopped.

"You painted your toenails?"

"Yes, while you were sleeping. Do you like the color?"

"Oh, yeah. It suits you perfectly."

He kissed her ankle and approached slowly her pussy. Her reaction to his lips made him even more horny. Like in previous times, he got so carried away that he could hardly keep control of himself. By now he was perfectly aware of how he could arouse her in the quickest way. The rhythm of the touches with his tongue and the strength of every touch resulted in the already familiar cry and the throbbing which he could feel perfectly with his mouth.

"Okay, it's my turn," she said, gently forcing him to lie on his back passively.

Her lips on his cock caused him a feeling which left him grasping for words. He was gently stroking her head while enjoying the touch of her beautiful hair all around his belly.

He made attempts to suppress his excitement a bit but to no avail. She used her mouth and her hands with cruel efficiency bringing him closer and closer to the climax with every little touch. Even more effectively than John had done it to her.

"Resistance is futile," she said in a muffled voice while holding his member between her lips. He giggled but in the next moment, the caress of her tongue was just too much for him.

"Ohmygod," he cried out and shuddered convulsively while she kept him inside her mouth paying attention not to hurt him with her teeth by accident. Finally, she swallowed everything he could give to her.

"Mmmm," she purred, "that was enough for me for breakfast. To be honest, I didn't expect such a large amount after your last night's performance."

He chuckled. "Neither did I. I thought I could produce nothing else but hot air... Care for a shower together? After the haircut?"

"You'd better go alone, I had one before. Besides, I would slow you down, I'm afraid."

"I'm sure you would," he grinned.

"By the way, Cam, wanna see what I did yesterday in the shed?" John asked while he was searching for something in the pocket of his pants he wore the previous day.

"Of course," she replied. "What is it?"

"I've made some improvement in jewelry," he said and opened a small box. "Behold!"

"Oh John, those are beautiful," she gasped and took out a pair of earrings from the box. She had a closer look at the tiny gemstones. "John, those are highest grade purple diamonds! No device could tell those are not mined and cut by professionals."

"I'm glad you like them," John said awkwardly.

"Like them? I'm fascinated by them!"

She pulled him closer and kissed him passionately.

"And that's not all," he said. "I produced a little bit more gold than necessary for the earrings... so I made a ring for you as well."

"That's lovely," she cried out. "And so delicate... so elegant. Thank you! Thank you so much!"

She pulled the ring on her middle finger and beamed. "Now I have two rings... and I'm gonna put the earrings in as well."

She unceremoniously pierced the rings through her earlobes. John grinned.

"How you look is less and less terminator-like. However, the way you put them in..."

"Ouch," Cameron cried theatrically. "Is that any better now?"

They both laughed.

"A bit of overacting but it's alright," he grinned.

"Now, let's do your haircut, John."

He sat on a chair, she put a blanket around his neck and took the hair clipper in her hand.

"What is your preference for a haircut, Sir," she asked with a mischievous smile.

"Crew cut please," he smiled.

Her physical closeness started to heat him up from the inside. He just couldn't help to slowly slide his hand under Cameron's t-shirt and stroke her side with a gentle touch.

She gasped and accidentally pushed the clipper a bit more firmly than necessary to John's head which resulted in a deeper cut.

"John!" she cried out. "Look what you've done!" She showed the side of his head in the hand mirror.

"Never mind, Cam, it's a bit shorter. Keep going."

She tried to make a correction on the other side but John's touch made her cut again even deeper than before.

"John! Stop it unless you want a bald head."

"Alright, alright. I'll behave myself. I'll sit on my hands, actually."

"Better. You can put your hands anywhere on my body when I'm finished."

He grinned. "Sounds perfect. I think, however, that everything is better than the floppy down I had before."

Two minutes later Cameron gave him the hand mirror again.

"You like it?"

"Yes! Nice buzz cut. Thank you Cam, you're a talented hairdresser!"

"Thanks, but that wasn't the plan, was it," she smirked.

"Never mind the plan."

They both giggled.

"Now, we should have a look at the police records," John said booting up his computer. "I know it's an old Dodge Ram, but what particular model it is?"

She sat down close to him. "It's a 1985 Power Ram. With a V8 engine."

John closed his eyes and started scanning mentally the police database of cars. He found no hit so he went to check the federal records as well.

"It seems clear," he said finally. "We can safely use this car."

But Cameron didn't sit next to him, instead, she stood on his other side, fully dressed.

"Wow, you look so gorgeous," he gasped. "Drop-dead gorgeous... I like your ponytail."

She spun around. "I found a purple scrunchy."

"Well, our visit to the mall paid off. This dress is so nice... and the sandals... isn't it cold outside?"

"It is at least 75 degrees. Other girls would dress like this also."

He stood up, hugged her from behind and kissed her neck.

Cameron closed her eyes. "I wish I could give you an adequate response to this kiss. But it's time to go now."

They rushed through the living room. "Hi, everyone," John said. "We're going to school, see you later."

"But John, you haven't had breakfast," Sarah frowned.

"I'll eat something in the canteen," he replied. "Cam already had breakfast."

She giggled, waved goodbye then they left the house. Sarah raised her eyebrow looking at Derek. He shrugged and looked back with the "no idea what's going on" look.

"Humans are complicated," Carl frowned. "And so is Cameron."

"Tin-heads are too, after a while," Sarah responded. "So will you. Get used to that."

**Monday, November 19, 2007, Riyadh, al-Zahrani residence, 0930 hours local**

"Is anybody crying?" Alem asked his wife, Zaynah.

"Yeah. The _sayidi_'s new wife. In fact, a 15-year-old girl. They had the so-called wedding night, I assume, but he probably wasn't pleased and left some bruises on her."

"The bastard!" he hissed. "In this country, even the camels have more rights than women."

"Sssshh," she warned him. "Don't start the political grousing again. Someone could overhear us. I agree, of course, however, things seem to change a bit for the better. Remember the Rania al-Baz case."

"I remember, but six months in jail is not much for the husband for beating her to a pulp... Anyway, keep an eye on this new wife if you can. Take care of her, so she might feel her life somewhat less miserable here."

She looked at him softly. "Do you know why I love you?"

"No, but I guess you're gonna tell me quite soon," he smirked.

"Because you've got a pure heart."

"Yeah," he smiled bitterly. "The only problem is that this pure heart is sold to the devil."

"We don't have to be here for too long. Soon, we're going to escape and start our own shop."

"About one more year. I made a rough calculation recently."

"You didn't believe the _sayidi _would invest in your business, did you?"

"Not for a second."

"So, one year. And we'll be mostly on our own." She sighed. "And we'll grow the best coffee in the world."

"On our own. With no _mutaween _patrols around, for example."

Zaynah smiled. "I won't miss them."

"Seriously, what nonsense is that? Enforcing people to pray? When I pray, I do that because I want to feel the presence of God. And to find my inner peace. Not because it's obligatory. That kills entirely the spirituality."

"Here we go again. But you're right. I ask myself all the time why people just can't leave other people alone in the first place."

* * *

"John, you need to eat something at school," Cameron said while they were driving to the school in West Hollywood. "I don't like it when you omit breakfast.

"Ain't hungry, Cam. I'd rather eat you out again."

She chuckled. "It would be great but it's not the right time for cunnilingus, don't you think?"

"Cunnilingus... I like the word. Sounds like a general in ancient Rome... say Gaius Lucius Cunnilingus."

She giggled. "Like a general in the Second Punic war?"

"Exactly. Who sucked at warfare because he was much more interested in pussies. Therefore his four legions were annihilated and he died in a battle against Hannibal."

They both laughed. "Still, I don't recommend this story to be told in a history exam," she said.

"I wouldn't do that," he grinned. "I don't think anybody would impressed by an alternate history like that."

They saw a restaurant on the right side of the road.

"Toulouse Petit," Cameron said. "How about having lunch there when we finished in school? Or dinner?"

"Great idea, Cam," John smiled. "What could be a better place for a romantic date than a French restaurant?"

"Till then you need to eat something."

"Don't worry, I'll meet my contact in the canteen."

"Contact, huh? How much do you know about her?"

"Almost nothing. We met only once shortly before your trip to Avila Beach. Riley something, I can't even remember her family name."

"Is she pretty?"

"I guess so."

"Guess? Is she busty?"

John frowned. "Honestly, no fuckin' idea. Nor the eye color. Blue, I guess. I didn't pay attention to her. She's a blonde, that's for sure."

She was scrutinizing him. "You're telling the truth."

"Of course I'm telling the fuckin' truth," he snapped. "Why wouldn't I?"

Silence.

"Cam, you're still not confident enough? You still think sometimes you're not good enough for me?"

"You've been scanning me," she said in a slightly accusing tone of voice.

"So have you," he replied. "You started it."

"That's not that I don't trust you, John," she insisted. "I just found it weird that you didn't remember anything about her."

"Well, I remember some things. She'd been expelled from her previous school for example. Because of a small tattoo."

"But you've got photographic memory."

"Indeed. But it seems to work only if I pay attention to things. Which was not the case with Riley."

"How come?"

"My mind was so busy... with you. In fact, I couldn't think of anything else but you. Also, I was daydreaming. About your head in my lap... The touch of your hair and your skin."

"You still weren't sure about me," she pouted.

"I was dead sure that I loved you," he retorted. "I just wanted to see clearly. And I wanted to protect you."

"I wouldn't have hesitated just to protect you," she argued.

"Oh, yeah?" He imitated her. "No, John, I cannot be important. If you develop feelings for me that could be dangerous. Remember?"

"That's not the same."

"Why? Explain to me."

"Because... Okay, fair enough. I can see your point."

She gave him a tentative smile. He took her hand from the wheel and kissed her fingers.

"Look, I felt such an incredible lust for you. I felt I'd just explode from the inside when you were around. I wanted to make sure that what I felt is not something mostly driven by sexual desire."

"And the conclusion was?"

"The conclusion was and the conclusion is that lust and love are strongly coupled in our case. The fact that I feel an unappeasable urge to take you in my arms and make love to you all the time is the consequence of you being my other part."

They were in the parking lot of Campo del Cahuenga. She parked Cromartie's truck, they got out of the car, then she squeezed gently his hand and placed kisses at his knuckles.

"And you are my other part. You've always been and you always will be. Don't you forget it... See you in the canteen."

With some tears in his eyes, John was watching her slender figure as she was walking towards the entrance.

**Al-Saeed Islamic bank, Riyadh**

"Yes, I'm pretty sure I didn't start any bank transfer to the United States in the recent three days," al-Zahrani said in a voice that is normally used for talking to particularly retarded persons. "_Especially not for a 911 Fund_," he thought.

"You changed your mind?" the teller asked absentmindedly while he was busy working on the computer trying to unravel the account histories.

"I didn't change my mind, you idiot!" al-Zahrani shouted. "I didn't start any bank transfer, can't you understand?"

"Sir, please calm down," the manager said while casting an angry look to the teller.

"Can we start a chargeback then?" al-Zahrani asked.

"I guess so. Now, we're going over step by step what happened, then we'll contact the Americans. Then we'll officially start the chargeback procedure. For that, you'll have to sign the official documents tomorrow. Don't worry, we will sort it out."

"Fine," al-Zahrani sighed. "It's more than nothing. Thank you in advance."

He left the bank and sat back in his car. Behind the tinted windows, he put out his _survival kit_ from the glove compartment. That kit consisted of a wad of cash, a black velvet bag full with diamonds, a Walter PPK semi-automatic, and a spare mag for the small handgun with seven rounds inside. He hid everything under his _thawb_ then he turned on his laptop to check his other bank accounts.

He started with the one which provided the financial support against the _Beni el-Kalb_, 'sons of dogs' - that was how he referred the Americans. He logged in the banking system just to find out that his account simply didn't exist. While driving home he called the bank but he didn't expect too much from that. They remembered him but the account just vanished. They had no clue.

Coincidences could be ruled out something stank indeed. He tried to open the door of his house and he wasn't surprised at all when two people stood behind him.

* * *

They took a table in the canteen. John with a burger and a bottle of Coke, Riley with a diet Mountain Dew and a smaller sandwich.

"So, this is the place where we meet your sister?" Riley asked.

John sighed. "Yes. Well, she's actually not my sister. She was... adopted and recently we just both realized that we love each other. Mom is okay with that... So she is my girlfriend now." He took a sip from his soda.

_"That's disgusting, he's banging the metal!"_

John choked on his soda and started coughing very heavily. He needed a second to realize that it was not a verbal insult from Riley, those were just here thoughts.

"Hey dude, are you all right?" Riley asked with a worried face. "Try not to suffocate!"

John slowly recovered. "No, I'm fine, thank you... I'll live."

"Hey, I like your haircut," she said.

"Thanks," he replied. "It's a bit shorter than planned. Cameron did it and ... well... she kinda got distracted by me and couldn't pay attention well. That's why my hair got shorter and shorter."

He seemingly turned his attention to his food but he focused heavily on Riley's thoughts. He felt her disgust "_he's an idiot, lucky, she didn't cut his throat_" and confusion "h_ow the hell can a metal be distracted._"

He noticed the sudden change of Riley's facial expression and saw Cameron approaching their table.

"Everything's done?" he asked.

"Sure," she answered. "Honey..."

"Yeah?"

"Introduction?"

"Oh! Sorry!" he said sheepishly. "Riley, this is Cameron, my girlfriend. Cam, she is Riley..."

"Dawson," Riley said. Although she tried to control her fear her voice was slightly trembling. She reached for her hand for a handshake as if she had to place it in a hydraulic press.

Cameron showed no sign of recognizing her tension, instead, she shook her hand with a disarming smile. John, however, knew exactly that Cameron observed Riley's strange behavior. He also felt the blond girl's bewilderment as she noticed how pretty Cameron was in her simple purple dress which let her expose her perfect legs. And the sandals. Metal wearing sandals and not combat boots! Furthermore, toenails painted purple! Not to mention her pretty earrings and the ring, all with tiny purple gems. And a second ring. Simple but stylish. Metal wearing jewelry...

"Do you know that girl, John?" Cameron asked and when John looked in that direction she took a sip from his soda.

"Hey, that's not fair!" John cried out but couldn't help grinning. Cameron giggled.

Riley just stared at them with horror in her eyes. John was analyzing the situation a little bit, and found it to be too suspicious if they completely ignored her strange behavior.

"Something wrong, Riley?" he asked, pretending he was worrying about her.

"No! Nothing at all!" she responded a bit too fast. "Only my stomach. I might have had something yesterday which didn't agree with me."

Cameron looked around in the canteen and saw the two girls who had insulted her right before Jordon's suicide.

"Hey, I buy you a soda if you puke into those bitch-whores' laps," she said. John couldn't help grinning.

"I... I don't need to vomit... I think," Riley stuttered.

"Can I have a bite from your burger, honey?" Cameron asked.

"Well... If you ask so nicely," John smiled and offered his burger to Cameron who took a bite from it.

"You like it?" John asked.

"Could be worse," she answered. "It's a fairly tasty burger. But you know what? At home I'll make you a better one... Do you mind if I flush your burger?" She took another sip from John's soda.

"Be my guest... I can't wait to try it. But didn't we want to go to a restaurant?"

"Yes, that French restaurant. What would they say if I asked for a _Le Big Mac_?"

"Probably that you've watched too much _Pulp Fiction_," John sighed but couldn't help laughing when he imagined the scene. He stroked her arm. "_Honey Bunny_," he added.

"Honey Bunny? Are you serious?" Cameron asked.

"No, not really."

John found Riley's facial expression priceless, however, the situation was also somewhat worrying. Yet, deep down he somehow felt that she had nothing to do with Skynet. He kept scanning her mind, but didn't find anything but fear and confusion. Fear from the terminator and the urge to escape from the situation. But she was also muddled, shocked like everything she'd thought previously about Cameron was turned upside down. It crossed his mind that they should abduct and interrogate her but he dropped the idea.

Cameron pulled her strong and beautiful hair out of the scrunchy. She swung it forward graciously, and tied it up again.

They both stared at her with mouth agape. Obviously for vastly different reasons. Riley felt a bit of envy seeing how beautiful Cameron's hair was.

"Excuse me," Riley said. "I need to visit the restroom."

John felt it was some kind of excuse to escape from the presence of Cameron. To his surprise, Cameron rose from the chair.

"Do you mind if I keep you a company?"

"No! Not at all," Riley replied with a scared face.

They didn't talk until they entered the restroom and went to neighboring booths. Riley tried to squeeze some piss with moderate success. To her utter surprise, however, she heard a massive gurgle with a released sigh from her neighborhood.

"Gosh, I thought I was going to pee on the floor," Cameron said.

"Lots of juice for breakfast, huh?" Riley asked.

"Oh, yeah, lots of it. And milkshake. And tea... And other stuff."

"You fine now?"

"Absolutely."

Meanwhile John was sitting in the canteen chewing his burger absentmindedly. He definitely never was the guy who liked to be in the center of interest. And yet, somehow it turned out to be all the time that the world revolved around him. How ironic! Who the hell was that girl? Why the hell she just appeared last week looking exactly like an average school girl, definitely with an agenda? He had more than enough things to do building his own resistance in the present and prevent Judgement Day. He wasn't happy the least to be distracted with mysterious girls and their hidden plans.

By the time the girls came back he ate and drank everything. There was an awkward silence for a couple of seconds.

"We need to go," he said finally. "Can we meet in two days? Just to get informed about the school stuff."

"Sure," Riley said. She fought to hide it but she looked relieved. "Are you coming too?" she asked Cameron.

"No, I don't think so," she answered. "Its enough if John fills me in later."

Before leaving Cameron gave another disarming smile to Riley.

"It was nice to meet you."

"Yeah,... likewise," Riley said. Their eyes met. Riley noticed that those lovely brown eyes were full with life not like those one would expect from a terminator.

Walking towards the car they both stayed silent. John felt how curious Cameron was. She started the engine and only when they left the parking lot he broke the silence.

"Well, Cam?"

"Well what?"

"I'm sure you're full of questions."

"Indeed. Your friend behaved very weird. How she acted. I sensed intense fear and later confusion."

"That's why you went with her to the toilet?"

"I wanted to keep an eye on her. To make sure she didn't contact anyone while we are at school."

"Do you wanna know what she thought?" John increased the tension.

"Of course I do, spit it out, John!"

"She thought: _There must be some mistake, she cannot be metal_."

"What? Are you serious?"

"Yes. Somehow she knows you are a terminator."

"But you don't really think she poses a threat. Even though she also certainly knows who _you_ are," she pointed out.

"No. But we need to find out who she is. She is probably from the future."

"I guess, that's why you wanted to meet her again."

"That's right. I don't give a damn about the school stuff, but I'll have the opportunity to scan her thoughts longer."

"You should care about school stuff too, John. You need all the knowledge to be a leader regardless if you're a superhero or not."

"Don't worry, I'll learn everything," he replied. "But what I meant is that finding out who Riley is, is quite a top priority.

"I can beat it out of her what her agenda is if you want me to," Cameron said, but she smirked.

"No, I don't think it's necessary. But it wasn't a serious suggestion, was it?"

"No, unless you see a chance that she's a Gray."

"I'm quite certain she isn't. She seemed a bit also worried about me thinking that I am the one who is in danger being very close to a terminator."

"So, she's planning something against me."

"Yes," John agreed reluctantly. "She might be a threat to you but not an immediate threat because right now she is not certain if you are human or cyborg."

"Well, sometimes I am not certain either if I'm cyborg or human," Cameron shrugged. "My emotions just skyrocketed since your birthday. And the fact that you're my boyfriend..." she took his hand while holding the wheel with her other hand. "I'm happy John, so unbelievably happy!"

"I'm happy too," he replied. "And double happy that you are happy." He gently squeezed her hand. "And I won't let it get fucked up by anybody."

"Not even by busty blondes?" she smiled shyly.

"Not even by busty blondes," he repeated. "But I think, our dear busty blonde will be an excellent first assignment for Carter."

They drove home hand in hand smiling all the way long. She looked at him frequently, stroke his knuckles. But what she didn't do, however, probably for the first time, was to check the rearview mirror and that was a mistake.

* * *

Fahad al-Zahrani had always known that the time would come sooner or later when he had to leave everything behind and flee.

Two policemen at the door. al-Zahrani scanned the street quickly with his eyes and saw their car with the driver inside. The driver seemed ready to interfere if necessary. "_Three people_," he thought. "_Won't be easy._" Those people were clearly _Mabahith _agents and he was sure the Saudi secret police wouldn't be after him for nothing. If he was caught on supporting terrorism that would mean a one-way ticket to Chop Chop Square for sure.

"What's the problem, gentlemen?" he asked with a friendly smile.

"Come with us, please," one of the agents replied. They both looked tense. al-Zahrani noticed they wore both flak wests.

"No problem," he replied with an even wider smile and made a friendly gesture with his left hand while pretending to scratch lazily his chest. One reason he always wore _thawb_: weapons were easy to conceal.

The agent grabbed their weapons but it was too late for them; al-Zharani already had the Walther PPK in his right hand. He fired in a fashion taught in many spec ops units: two round bursts, short pause, two rounds again.

The agents didn't have a chance with the lethal headshots. al-Zahrani had to run along their car to reach his. While running he kept firing at the driver. Three shots, then he slammed a fresh mag in the PPK.

There was no need for a fourth shot. The driver was down with a bullet hitting his neck. al-Zahrani reached Alem Aldakhil's car at the corner. That white Honda Accord had seemed to be a generous offer to his employee for daily usage. What Alem didn't know was that al-Zahrani kept a key for the Accord just for in case of emergency. Of course, he couldn't use his Bentley as a getaway car, that would have been too obtrusive. However, a white Honda Accord, one of the most common types of cars in the country wouldn't arouse any suspicion. Besides, the Accord only needed to reach a parking garage where al-Zahrani had a Ford Explorer. It would take a while until Alem would find out and report that his car would be missing. By that time al-Zahrani would have reached his safe house, hide the Explorer and change cars again. With a piece of luck, the authorities would still be searching for the white Accord.

Soon, he left the city, starting his journey with his green Explorer on Highway 10, which includes the world's largest stretch of completely straight road. Lucky, he thought, it wouldn't be as dull in the westbound direction.

* * *

When they arrived home Derek, Sarah, and Kevin were sitting in the living room.

"Everything's fine at school?" Sarah asked.

"With school, yes," John replied. "However, we've got a little problem."

"What is it?"

"Derek and Kevin might give us a clue," John said. "Do you know a Riley Dawson?"

"Riley Dawson? I don't think so. Who is she?" Derek asked while Kevin was shaking his head as well.

"One thing we know of her, or at least it seems apparent, that she is from the future," John replied.

Derek raised his eyebrow. "What?"

"Yes. She knows that Cam is a terminator."

"How do you know?"

"I used my mind-reading abilities."

"Does she know your true identity?"

"Probably."

"Shit," Derek said. "No, I don't know her. I never heard that name."

"You're right, John, that's a problem," Sarah said. "A huge one, actually."

"I know, Mom."

"John, we need to take this very seriously."

"I know, Mom, I know" he repeated, a little annoyed. "I have the feeling that she's not alone.

"Why do you think that?"

"Because seeing how Cam was behaving she started questioning that she was not human. So, I think, someone else should have planted the idea in her head."

"Do you think she's a Gray?" Derek asked.

"No, I don't," John answered. "She referred to Cam as 'metal' in her thoughts and she seemed to worry about me."

"I can understand her concerns," Derek said with a serious face.

"What? Why?"

"Because she's gonna wear you out soon sexually," he smirked.

"Derek!" Sarah and Cameron cried out simultaneously.

"I really don't want to take pride in my sexual stamina," John said. "But you really don't need to worry about that."

"I totally agree," Cameron said. "Derek, you should rather worry about me instead. During my design by Skynet Horny John wasn't taken into account."

John and Derek burst out laughing, however, Sarah didn't.

"All right, let's change back to the subject," she said. "Kevin, I assume you haven't heard of this Riley Dawson either."

"No, I haven't," Kevin replied. "I know nobody with this name from the Resistance and we didn't catch any Gray who was called Riley."

"Okay, what's your plan, John?" Sarah asked. "I hope you've got one."

"Sort of," he replied slowly. "I'll meet her again in two days. Discussing school stuff. In the meantime, I'm gonna prepare a tiny electronic device which I'll install in the appropriate moment."

"So, you're going to tap her phone."

"Yes. But she'll also have a tail from that time on. I'll take Carter with me and he'll follow her everywhere."

"Why not now?"

"Because I want to finish the upgrading process first."

"Is he still in standby?"

"Yeah. No worries, Mom, I have the situation under control. I'm pretty sure, Riley is not a Gray."

"She could still be a threat," Sarah retorted.

"Sarah's right," Cameron said. "I think we should deploy Carter P.D.Q... Did I use the right acronym?"

"Fine, fine," John sighed. "Yes, you did. Pretty damn quick... Let's wake him up then."

* * *

In the shed, there were three triple eights. Carl, Carter, standing in the middle in an at-ease stance, and Cromartie's body on the bench. John stored the chip in his bedroom. John, and especially Sarah just couldn't help to cast looks of bitter hatred towards the body. They noticed, however, Kevin's drastically different facial expression as he looked at it with soft eyes. The penny dropped for John.

"You know him from the future, don't you? This body hosted the Turk as a counter-Skynet AI, I believe."

"John Henry," Kevin nodded. "The good friend, whose role was crucial for the Resistance. Also, Skynet's primary target beside John Connor."

"That's so surreal," Sarah said. "I still have the urge to empty the armor-piercing shells to his head from my Remington."

"That's just the body," Kevin replied.

"Yeah, let's not forget about the chip," she said. "I'd just love to take a hammer and turn the chip into shiny powder."

"Let us hate him just a bit more," John said. "I promise, I'll do my best to like him after the reformatting."

Kevin laughed. "Fair enough."

John stepped to Carter and shook his shoulder. "Wakey-wakey."

The cyborg opened his eyes. "What's the mission, General."

"First, learn and evolve. I'll scan you again, then we'll do some tweaking."

"I thought you were ready with us, General," Carl said.

"Consider it a minor upgrade," John smiled. "It's basically a scanning program that will run independently from your system programs. The purpose is not only to seek the remainder of any Skynet code, if any, but also to improve your performance even more. In combat, it might be a deciding factor against Skynet's triple-eights. The efficiency of your sensors will be increased as well."

"You are not going to do that with him, are you? I noticed you had a history." Carter asked, pointing to Cromartie's body.

"Not right now. I have other plans with him."

He told briefly how Cromartie had been chasing them through time and about John Henry who played a crucial role in Wells' future.

"Very interesting," the Triple-8 said. "So you won't use his chip if I understand it correctly."

"In my timeline, John Henry was wire-connected to a mainframe for quite a long time," Kevin replied. "Later, they acquired a Triple-8 chip, and his system was slowly transferred to that."

"Well, I don't see any reason why we shouldn't do the same in our timeline," John declared. "Cam, let's go and plug in Cromartie's chip and see the visual records."

"How about the upgrade?" Carl inquired.

"Right, right," John said. "Let's finish with the upgrade first."

**Mabahith HQ, Riyadh**

Lt. Gen. Khalid Al-Sabani, the 'Old Man' as many people referred to him, sat on a chair and listened to the ranting of the Colonel who was in charge of collecting al-Zahrani. As always he wore the traditional _thawb_. He was sitting on a chair with a calm and expressionless face, as always. His calmness was legendary, nobody ever saw him upset.

Two months before retirement he did not want to get involved in a case that was not his responsibility. Within the Mabahith, he was the head of the anti-terrorist division, and as such, he had a hard time when 9/11 happened. Although nobody considered him to be responsible, he couldn't help blaming himself for overlooking Saudis being heavily involved in such a terrorist attack.

He was interested only in anti-terrorist operations and politely refused to take part in anything else. Of course, he was cautious enough to keep his opinion for himself but deep inside he was strongly against targeting political opposition members, and human rights activists. He always thought criticism wouldn't do any harm and it was a sign of weakness suppressing those voices by force. Opposition associated with violence, or even paramilitary groups: those were other cases whose members often experienced the ruthless efficiency of Khalid Al-Sabani. He knew very well how to break people without causing the slightest injury. Waterboarding was just the warm-up and some of the suspects ended up in psychiatry after the so-called interrogation. Still, they could consider themselves lucky to keep their heads at the end of the day. Al-Sabani was famous, however, of never making the mistake of false accusation.

"You finished, Colonel?" he asked finally. His voice was calm, not threatening at all, almost friendly, still, the Colonel stopped speaking at once. "You seemed to be a talented agent for me, therefore, I'm quite surprised to see your behavior. I consider it conduct unbecoming an officer, amounting to insubordination. I'm sorry for your men but that doesn't justify your attitude.

"I... I apologize, Sir," the Colonel said. "They were just... my best agents. We had to act fast as it seemed that our bird would have been suspicious seeing his empty bank accounts."

Al-Sabani wanted to say that those agents couldn't be too competent if they could have been outgunned by a single businessman, regardless of his previous military training. He changed his mind, just nodded.

"Before the raid, we found that the bastard used to be a member of the special forces. Still, I don't know how he could outgun three of my trained team."

"You just underestimated him. He might seem to be an oil magnate who lives in luxury, but I'm pretty sure he could survive on his own in the desert or in the mountains. Unfortunately, the Americans didn't or couldn't tell us much of al-Zahrani's background."

The Colonel sighed. "Oh yes, the CIA committee arrives today and I'll have to give them a warm welcome. I'm fluent in English, still, I don't know how to treat the Beni el-Kalb."

"You might want to consider to stop calling them Beni el-Kalb, Colonel. If you want to be respected: show some respect. Even if the others are not present."

The Colonel hung his head. "You're right, Sir."

The General smiled. "Of course I am. Now, if you act fast, with the help of the Army you could close the borders so well that not even a sand cat can approach them without noticing."

* * *

"That's been a complete waste of time," John groaned after two hours of intensive searching in Cromartie's visual memory.

"Honestly, I didn't expect too much," Cameron said. "Did you?"

"I was kinda hoping we'd find something," John replied. "Some contacts here, instructions by Skynet before the time travel... Secondary targets."

"I'll keep searching while you will be sleeping," she offered. "What he did here and in the future, I'll be checking step by step."

"That would be nice," he sighed. "But remind me to show the scene to Mom where Skynet warns him about the very high threat level of Sarah Connor."

She chuckled. "Sure I will... Now, would you check out Riley? Is she still at school?"

John closed his eyes and concentrated on the blond girl. "No, she's not. She's at Oxnard Street right now. Less than one mile from the school. She's not moving, though, she might be at home or rather in her foster parent's home to be precise."

"Let's give the location to Carter."

* * *

Fahad al-Zahrani pulled off when he was close to the safe house. He double-checked the mirror. Nobody followed him and he could see nobody around the house. He approached it with caution, walked around but he could see nothing suspicious. He expected his two henchmen to appear upon his arrival but it didn't happen. With a frown, he entered the safehouse. Still nothing suspicious, apart from the disappearance of his men. He rushed to the cupboard, pushed it aside to get access to the hidden safe. It opened like a charm and the suitcase was inside.

He decided to change clothes. His expensive _thawb _was too obtrusive so it had to go. He changed to fairly worn-out clothing with a red-white-checkered _keffiyeh_. For a negligent observer, he would look like a Bedouin. While changing he noticed that the small bag with diamonds was missing. How annoying! He must have lost it during the gunfight or while he was running towards the car. But he thought he still had the suitcase with enough cash and diamonds.

He started the engine of the Land Cruiser. Soon, he thought, he would reach the Sarawat Mountains where he couldn't be spotted as easily as in the desert. Then, down to Yemen, taking a plane in Aden with a destination of Cairo where he had a safe house. He also had a bank account under a pseudonym and he spoke the Egyptian dialect perfectly. It wouldn't be difficult to blend in and start over.

He accelerated and drove as fast as he could still feel safe on the dirt road. It was rough for a short stretch, the car even jumped shortly in the air. As he reached the paved road with a right turn he noticed something in the mirror rolling further in a straight direction.

His rear left wheel.

In the following moment, the car stopped with a horrible screeching noise. He got out and just stood there shocked seeing the Land Cruiser, being a useless wreck settling on the remainders of the rear brake discs. How could he lose the rear wheels? A clear case for sabotage, it seemed.

The car was beyond repair so he needed to rush back to the Explorer. As he grabbed the suitcase he heard a weird noise. Something one wouldn't expect from a pile of banknotes and diamonds. Something... stony. He opened the suitcase just to see the stones carefully wrapped in clothes. And the WTC model on top.

He took the model and threw it away angrily while he was cursing and swearing. Then he forced himself to calm down. This is about survival so he couldn't afford to lose his temper and lose precious time because of that. Who could have stolen the money? The WTC towers were clearly a signature from the CIA, he thought. The Beni el-Kalb probably killed his two thugs, found somehow the money and the diamonds, and replaced them with stones. They surely didn't, however, get the Saudi authorities involved. Otherwise he would have been already dead. As he opened the hidden compartment in the Land Cruiser he was quite certain he wouldn't find his weapons there. He felt a bit relieved when he saw he was wrong on that, but his somewhat better mood lasted for only a second.

The weapons had no triggers. Both the MAC-10 and the Glock 17 were pretty useless in this condition. Inspecting the magazines closer he realized that they were deformed so they wouldn't fit into any gun. That applied also to the mags for the PPK. He wouldn't have been surprised if he didn't find the firing pins either but he didn't take the trouble to check that. So all he had now was a wad of cash and a Walter PPK with seven rounds. Ordinary people maybe would have rampaged or gone crazy in his shoes. But not him. He was a professional survivor so he instantly focused on his next step. Which was leaving everything useless behind and run back to the Explorer. Fortunately, he had some food and drinking water with him and he had enough fuel to reach the mountains.

While approaching the explorer, he heard the noise of a jet engine and soon he saw the aircraft as well. But before he could start worrying the aircraft increased its altitude and soon disappeared.

* * *

"I think you could use the old Dodge Ram," John said to Carter. "But have you got papers? Driving license, for example."

"I have everything necessary," the Triple-8 replied showing to John his military papers and his driving license.

"Major James Earl Carter," John frowned. "Seriously? Like Jimmy Carter?"

"What's wrong with that name?" Carter asked.

"Well, it's definitely less suspicious than Ronald Reagan... Anyway, I don't think you'll have any problem with the authorities unless you bump into the top brass."

"I don't think so either... Who is the target?"

John gave him an accurate description of Riley.

"She is a busty bitch-whore," Cameron added.

"Whoa, whoa, someone seems jealous," Sarah smirked.

"I'm not jealous," Cameron stated. "But I don't like her because she's obviously planning something against me."

"We'll find out what she is up to," Carter said. "I'll follow her and check if she meets someone or speaks to someone."

"And when I'm ready with my little device I'll tap her phone," John nodded. "I'm thinking of preparing a whole set of new little gadgets... Any questions?"

"None," the Triple-8 replied.

"Then you can go now."

"Yes, General."

"And don't call me General, in public."

"Yes, General."

John frowned.

"What? We are not in public," Carter said. He saluted then left the house.

"He's got a style," John sighed. "Anyway. Kevin, Carl, you'll both need papers. We'll see how Cam and I will excel as forgers. Also, we'll create credit history for both of you. That won't do any harm."

He turned towards Cameron. "Now, Cam, ready for visiting the restaurant?"

"Sure! I'm starving!"

After they disappeared, Carl cast a puzzled look at Sarah and Derek but they just shrugged.

**Mabahith HQ, Riyadh**

"What do you think, Sir?" the Colonel asked the 'Old Man' when he interrupted the interrogation of Alem Aldakhil and went to the room behind the one-way mirror.

"Not your guy," Lt. Gen. Khalid Al-Sabani replied with a faint smile.

"But he is al-Zahrani's assistant. He seems a very smart man. He might have been involved..."

"Not your guy," the 'Old Man' repeated with a somewhat wider smile.

"With all due respect... how can you be so sure?"

"I'm just am."

"Is that some kind of sixth sense?"

"I don't particularly believe in the sixth sense. Although one can never know... I rather think that it is a combination of the 5 well-established senses extended with a lot of experience. The body language, for example. The non-verbal communication of this guy will tell you everything. Unless he is a highly trained professional liar, which is quite unlikely because we know his background."

"I'd rather keep him in here for a while, nonetheless," the Colonel said.

"Of course."

There was a knock on the door and an agent came in. He got a bit bewildered seeing the 'Old Man' sitting in the corner.

"Permission to speak, Sir!"

"Permission granted, Sergeant-major," the Colonel replied.

"Sir, we've got the missing white Honda Accord. The manager of a multi-story parking garage reported that a few places were hired by al-Zahrani and the Accord appeared there a few hours ago. A green Ford Explorer, however, disappeared from that place."

The Colonel got excited about the good news. "That sounds better. Do we know the license plate?"

"We do. And which is even better, a few traffic cameras recognized the Explorer. The car hit Highway 10, westbound."

"Excellent!" The Colonel picked up the phone. "Thank you very much, Sergeant-major."

The phone call was short but productive. Two Panavia Tornado GR4A reconnaissance aircrafts were already airborne. Their sideways looking IR sensors were scanning many miles wide on both sides. They were equipped with a more traditional and less expensive device as well: the navigators had large binoculars to get visual on any suspicious vehicle.

* * *

They selected the most distant table from the other occupied one, next to the wall. They ordered orange juice to drink. Sound quality must have been a top priority when the restaurant was designed; it seemed that the clear and soft music came directly from the walls all around the room.

_Marie douceur aime bien chanter des ballades_

_Mais ne t'y fie pas trop, un bon conseil, prends garde_

_Marie colère adore les éclats de voix_

_Alors choisis entre les autres filles et moi_

"I like this music," John said. "That rings a bell, actually."

"Paint it black?" Cameron smirked.

"Right! Must be a cover."

"That's my favorite from Rolling Stones," she said.

"The singer's called Marie Laforêt," the waiter said smiling while he served the drinks.

"Never heard of her," John said. "You are really from France, aren't you?"

"I'm from Toulouse," the waiter replied and made a hand gesture towards a painting on the wall which depicted the bridge Pont Neuf over the river Garonne. "Some call it pink city, La Ville Rose, because of its typical architecture with terracotta bricks."

"You still miss it," Cameron stated.

"Yes," he sighed. "You haven't been there, have you?"

"No," Cameron and John said in unison. "We haven't been to Europe."

"If you had you'd miss it too. In my dreams, I often walk in the Place du Capitole or along the Garonne. Or Wilson Square... Anyway, have you decided, what to choose?"

"Do you have suggestions?" John asked.

"Well, you can try _confit de canard_, for instance_. _That is duck. Duck is very typical in Toulouse. We have _cassoulet_, which is basically a casserole with slowly cooked white bean and duck. But you can choose _cassoulet _with pork if you prefer that."

"Sounds great," Cameron said. "I'll try that with duck."

"I'd have something fishy," John said. "Fried salmon, for instance."

"Fried salmon, that is," the waiter smiled. "How about soup? May I suggest our garlic soup?"

They both nodded. The waiter cast them a smile again, then left. John's stomach started to grumble.

**On board of the Tornado GR4 with the call sign of Saqr-2**

"That's a needle in a haystack," the pilot told the navigator in the intercom.

"That's why we're checking the desert, not the roads," the navigator pointed out. "If our guy tries to approach the Yemeni border offroad then we spot him from many miles away. But I don't believe the terrorist guy opted for a desert ride with a Ford Explorer."

"Maybe he changed the getaway car."

"Maybe. But even in that case, I think he would try to leave the country via the mountains. Wouldn't you?"

"I don't know," the pilot replied dryly. "I've never been an escaping terrorist, and frankly, I don't want to be one."

The navigator chuckled. "Think logically."

"Logically... The roads may be dangerous because of the roadblocks. The desert is also dangerous because one can be spotted from quite a long way away... Anyway, we're about to reach the waypoint."

"_Eash Alttayir_, this is Saqr-2," the navigator called the base. "New course is 305."

"Copy that, Saqr-2," the answer arrived from the base.

Maintaining 600 knots, which was almost the top speed of the Tornado with external fuel tanks without afterburner, the aircraft made an elongated right turn and continued its flight in the northwest by north direction.

"Hold on," the navigator said. "I have a contact at 11 o'clock." He zoomed the infrared camera and studied its picture in the middle display. "That looks exactly like a Ford Explorer. It doesn't move, but it's still fairly hot. Slow down."

The pilot lifted the nose and converted the airspeed to altitude. The wing angle was set to the minimum 25 degrees.

"Roll the bird by 30 degrees," the navigator requested. He attempted to find the target with the large binocular. "And it's green. All right, let's fly away and turn back from a distance before he gets suspicious."

He activated the TIALD targeting pod and illuminated the car for a second. Who knows, he might have to repeat it later to show the way to a laser-guided bomb.

* * *

They were sitting silently for a while, holding hands.

"Penny for your thoughts," she said and kissed gently his knuckles.

"Oh, nothing," he replied and looked around contemplating if someone was around overhearing their conversation.

"Don't worry, John, nobody can hear us," she smiled. "The music muffles everything if we keep talking in a low voice."

"Unless someone has superhearing as I do," he smirked.

"Unless. Anyway, we do both have superhearing, so let's continue talking in a very low voice."

"Okay. So, I'm thinking of a highly effective weapon system for ourselves. With caseless ammunition. And to achieve very high velocity we could make rocket-propelled projectiles that eliminate most of the recoil.

"That's called Gyrojet," Cameron nodded.

"What?"

"Gyrojet. Firearms shooting small rockets. They were developed in the sixties, a few of them even deployed in Vietnam."

"And why was it a flop?"

"Because those models were inaccurate and unreliable. And the ammo was very expensive. Very few people own Gyrojets and they collect the projectile after shooting and reuse them."

"Sad," he said. "I thought what a brilliant idea I had, and it was done forty years ago. Bummer."

"It is a brilliant idea, John," she replied stroking his hand. "Because with our combined powers we could highly improve the concept. The barrel was not rifled, for instance, but rifling would result in a much higher stability of the projectile in the initial part of the trajectory when its speed is increasing."

"Yeah," he nodded thoughtfully. "The first stage of the minirocket could burn in the barrel, and could behave like a conventional projectile, maybe subsonic when leaving the barrel. However, the next stage would accelerate the rocket to at least one mile per second, for instance, within half a second or even less."

"Exactly. It would also displace the sonic boom from the shooter's position. The trajectory would be rather flat enabling much higher accuracy..." She paused for a few seconds closing her eyes. "Just an approximate calculation: with those parameters, you could reach less than 0.1 MOA accuracy."

"Less than 0.1 minute of arc," John repeated thoughtfully. "That is less than the half what the most accurate sniper rifle can achieve."

"Yes. With an effective range of two miles... What caliber are you thinking of?"

"Well, I think, the bullets should mimic the existing bullets. If someone inspects those after a battle it's less likely they would come to the conclusion they found some exotic stuff."

"So, like 5.56mm?"

"Yeah, for the assault rifles. 7.62mm for the light machine guns, .338 for the sniper rifles, and something like .50 BMG for the heavy machine guns and the anti-materiel rifles... Maybe even 4.6mm for the submachine guns..."

"Our dinner is coming," Cameron interrupted him.

"Yeah, sure."

The waiter served them the garlic soups and the croutons.

"Wow, that smells absolutely delicious," John said.

"Bon appétit," the waiter smiled then left them alone again.

"Where were we?" John asked.

"Submachine guns."

"Yeah... and the same 4.6mm could be used for handguns. An average handgun with a capacity of 30 rounds."

"Those would be a pretty unusual caliber for handguns."

"Yeah, you're right. We could keep making more effective ammo for our existing handguns, though."

"I agree. To tell you the truth, I like my Glocks," she smiled.

"The Austrian weapon industry," he mused. "It has always been famous for its excellent quality of products."

"Like Mannlicher rifles, for example."

"Or the AUG weapon family. From submachine guns to designated marksman rifles. Anyway, I'm thinking of a bit more conventional design. Not that I intend to nominate our products to an international weapon's beauty contest."

She giggled. "It's amazing, isn't it? Only five days have passed since your birthday. And we're planning the manufacturing of our weapons for our small army."

"It's really unbelievable," he nodded. "Only five days. And we are engaged now, and we are one."

She bent forward and kissed him on the lips. He returned the kiss before she sat back.

The waiter came again and served them the main dishes.

"And only five days since my first kill," he said sternly.

"Do you have bad feelings about that?"

"To tell you the truth, the only thing I have bad feelings for is that I don't have bad feelings about killing that motherfucker."

"I can understand. He deserved what he got," she stated. "You only defended yourself and Sarah. I feel remorse, however, for a few things."

"For killing Enrique, for example?"

"A little bit, yes. But he was a traitor."

"Yeah," he sighed. "I guess, he was."

"He sold us to the FBI... Do you know what was a statement Future You used quite often?"

"No?"

"No mercy for traitors. And Enrique just lied to your mother's face. El Finito, and other bullshit... Then lifted the receiver and called the FBI."

"I still can't believe he did this. After all the things we'd gone through."

"Even Sarah was on the verge of pulling the trigger. I saw it on her face. Yet, she couldn't do it. But I could. Still, in the current situation I wouldn't do the same."

"Yeah, we wouldn't have to. I'd just wipe his memories. So, what else do you have remorse for?"

"For Maria."

"Who?"

"Maria Shipkova. The sister of Dmitri Shipkov."

"I see. The guy who stole the Turk."

"Exactly. I just let them get shot down by the Russian mafia. I promised them to help but instead, I just left and the thugs killed them." She hung her head.

He took her hand emphatically. "Don't be sad. You were not the same person back then."

"I know. Still, it's bugging me. I keep replaying the scene in my head. And imagine that I save them and kill the thugs."

John stroked her knuckles thoughtfully. "I'm thinking of something."

"Would you like to share with me your thoughts?"

"Yes, later. Let me think it over first."

They finished their food. The waiter noticed that and came over again. "Would you like to have something for dessert?"

They both nodded.

"May I recommend our almond cookies called _croquants_?"

"Sounds good," John said.

The waiter looked at Cameron awaiting her answer.

"Yes please, _croquants _for me too."

"You won't be disappointed," the waiter smiled then left.

"That's weird a bit also," Cameron smiled.

"What?"

"That I enjoy food. I need to eat sometimes to regenerate my biological sheath. But eating used to be something like maintenance for me. Like fixing my knee, for instance. And now... I'm eating almond cake just for pleasure."

* * *

The first helicopter came at dusk. At first, al-Zahrani thought it would just fly over and disappear. He only noticed he was in trouble when the chopper took a slow turn and decreased its altitude. The small Schweitzer 333 started hovering right above him easily adjusting to his speed. He knew it would have been futile to drive faster. Even at top speed his Ford Explorer couldn't outpace an S-333. The chopper came a bit more down to his left side. Obviously, the crew wanted to have a solid visual on the driver of the car.

The road was constantly ascending as he reached the Sarawat mountain. He knew the road would soon reach a canyon which would be very narrow at some points. Vegetation would be gradually more and more dense providing opportunities for hiding. With a bit of luck, he could deceive the crew of the S-333 by driving his car into a ravine, jumping out at the right time and disappearing between the trees.

* * *

"I have an idea," John said when they left the restaurant and found a place which was covered in three directions so no by-passer could notice their sudden disappearance.

He took his phone and called Sarah while holding hands with Cameron.

"Mom? We've just come out of the restaurant. Now I'm gonna try something and you'll help me in the experiment."

"What experiment," he heard his mother's voice which abruptly turned to be shocked. "Holy shit, John!"

"Surprise, surprise," John said. "Cam, tell something to Mom."

"Something," Cameron said.

"What the fuck?" Sarah gasped.

John looked around again carefully, squeezed his eyes shut then they both appeared in the safe house. He saw his mother staring at them, holding her phone in her hand and her face which was shocked by surprise by their appearance.

"Holy shit, John!" she said.

"Surprise, surprise," he heard his own voice from the phone.

"Something," he heard Cameron's voice.

"What the fuck?" Sara said.

"Well, that was the experiment," John replied. "A little time travel. Not much, just a few seconds. You like?"

"That was creepy as hell," she replied. "But it was awesome, indeed."

"This trick might be handy," Cameron said. "In certain situations, we can travel back just to warn ourselves."

"That was in my mind also," John nodded. "Shit can happen anytime."

* * *

When the second helicopter came, al-Zahrani knew he wouldn't make it to Aden. In fact, he even doubted he would survive the day. The S-333 flew a bit further following the road while the second chopper, a large Desert Hawk started to follow him descending gradually to a height of approximately 30 meters. He saw the slim cylinders on both sides of the helicopter: two launchers with seven 70 mm Hydra rockets each. And probably some troops inside.

The road ran in a narrow valley and the Hawk descended even more with its blade tips not very far from the cliffs. "_Skilled pilot_," al-Zahrani thought, "_it'd be very hard to lose him_." He still hoped that he could get rid of the choppers at some point. Abruptly, the road reached a steep curve with the cliffs even closer at both sides. "Perfect place for an ambush," he thought darkly and indeed before the road would have been straight again, he saw two AMX-10 tracked amphibious infantry vehicles blocking his way. "_This is the end_," he thought. "_But you won't get me alive_."

"Allahu Akbar," he yelled and stepped firmly onto the accelerator. The last thing he saw was the muzzle flashes of the 20 mm autocannons on the AMX-10s.

He didn't hear the explosion.

* * *

"So John, how does this time-manipulation work?" Sarah asked. "You can start and stop time, you could even travel back a few minutes just to arrive right after finishing the phone call."

"That needs more practice to find out," John said. "this is one of my strongest weapons and I'm determined to be as accurate with time-traveling as I already am with teleportation."

"Can you travel back more?", Cameron asked suddenly. "Say... to 1983."

Everyone became very quiet. They all understood at an instant the importance of that date. Sarah gulped and asked in a shaky voice after some hesitation. "Can you do it, John?"

"I... I think so. Yes, I can do it," he said slowly. "In fact, I've been thinking about that ever since I was gifted with my abilities. But Mom, I need to know everything. And by everything: I mean everything. Every little detail. Because if I mess up something that could cause unforeseeable consequences. You know, the butterfly effect."

"What do you wanna know?" Sarah asked in a low voice.

"First, the chains of events," Cameron said. "With the estimated time intervals. That would help us to find you."

"Us?" John asked.

"Yes, John, us. You don't think you can do this alone?"

"Why not?"

"For a start, how would you tell the exact date and time?"

"Ask somebody?"

"And how about just looking at the sky and telling those from the relative position of some selected stars?"

John smiled. "Sounds good. But I'm just teasing you. Of course, I need you."

She gave him a peck on his face. "Besides, I know Kyle well. We were friends."

"What?" Sarah and Derek asked in unison.

"You just somehow forgot to mention this tiny little detail," John said with a grumpy face.

"Please, John, don't be angry with me! I had an explicit order from Future You to keep this secret even from you and Sarah. But no more secrets! That's why I'm telling you this right now."

"But how could you be friends?" Derek asked still in disbelief.

"You were kept as a POW by Skynet when I was caught and reprogrammed by John. While he was browsing my visual memories he found out that Skynet was almost ready with the TDE and it was kept in a well-hidden research facility.

"In Topanga Canyon?" Derek asked.

"Precisely."

"So that was what Perry was talking about. But he didn't want to tell me what we had achieved when I asked."

"Because it was top secret."

"Yeah, I figured it out."

* * *

Alem Aldakhil stood by his white Honda Accord in the parking garage.

"You really don't need my car anymore?" he asked one of the policemen who gave him the key back Alem hadn't even known about.

"No, we're finished with the investigation. Fingerprints show unequivocally that your boss stole your car and left it here. Since he died there's not too much to investigate here anymore."

Alem drove out of the garage with mixed feelings. Sure, his boss was evil and deserved what he got. But he and Zaynah still hadn't got enough money to start their own business. All belongings of al-Zahrani would be seized by authorities until the end of the investigations. Probably for quite a long time.

His car stood at a red light in a crossing, he was deeply buried in his thoughts. Finally, the traffic light changed to green but abruptly a car crossed his path which obviously violated the red light.

He stepped strongly onto the brake pedal barely avoiding the crash. "Fucking idiot," he swore.

A small object bumped into his right foot. Weird, there shouldn't be anything under the seat. By a glance, it looked like a pouch.

His first thing to do when he arrived home and stopped the car was to examine the mysterious object. It was indeed a pouch made of black velvet. He opened it and released a quiet whistle.

The pouch was full of diamonds. All of them seemed very clear, mostly with a round cut. A few of them were probably above one carat. The content of the bag was surely worth more than one million dollars.

"Thank you _sayidi_, that was very generous of you," he said in a low voice. "_Zaynah will be happy, very happy_," he thought with a warm smile.

The day was a lucky one indeed.

* * *

"So, tell me please a bit more about the Battle of Topanga Canyon," John inquired. "And your role in it."

"I think that started with one of the most brilliant battle plans in the history of warfare," Cameron said. "That clearly showed how excellent military leader Future John was. He just anticipated and predicted all the moves of Skynet forces and struck with everything we had. Sea, air, and land. Meanwhile, Kyle and I were deployed in Topanga to find the entrance of the facility. Then we, with a small task force, entered and searched for the TDE which was heavily defended by Skynet terminators. During the battle, I saved Kyle's life three times."

"Good start for a friendship," Derek nodded.

"Maybe, but it must have started somewhat earlier," she replied. "You know, Kyle was one of the very few humans who didn't treat me like a piece of shit."

How she said that was not without malice, however, Derek decided to leave that uncommented.

"And sadly, the friendship ended soon," she added. "As soon as we finished extracting data from the TDE, Kyle used it to go back to 1983. When he said goodbye he grabbed my shoulders and made me promise that I would take care of you. Future You, I mean. When he left I had very odd experiences. First, I considered them as malfunctions, but when I asked Future John, he just replied with a sad smile, that that's how it worked when we lost somebody who'd been close to us."

"One thing I don't understand," John mused. "Why did he go back in the first place? In the original timeline, the other Kyle Reese traveled back in time, became my father, saved Mom's life, and sacrificed his own. Your Kyle shouldn't have done the same."

"True, John, but that's how temporal singularity comes into perspective," she replied.

"Temporal what?"

"Singularity," she repeated. "Future you had scientists who were actively researching temporal physics. What they concluded, was in perfect agreement with Skynet's records we found in Topanga."

"And?"

"You should know that the mathematical background of temporal physics is extremely complicated. Very briefly: the chain of events is placed in a four-dimensional spacetime called Minkowski space. A chain here is a series of time-independent events that are elements of a Hilbert space given as the linear combination of appropriate square-integrable basis functions. So far so good. The problem is to find the basis, which is practically impossible except for the very simple cases. In fact, that part makes the modeling very complicated."

"Some things you've mentioned ring a bell. When I had my computer classes I saw some linear algebra. But only the basics," Sarah nodded.

"I was never very good at math," Derek said. "So could we please skip the theory and jump to the part when Kyle was involved?"

"Okay, but for you to understand Kyle's jump I need to tell you some theories of time travel."

"Go ahead," Derek sighed.

"As you probably know, processes can be either stochastic or deterministic."

"Those are the two extrema, actually," John interrupted. "Very few people believe that everything is deterministic. That the future is set and we have a fate whatever we do. But it's not stochastic either because most things are not random processes."

"To explain it simply," Cameron continued noticing the frown on Derek's face, "the coin flip is stochastic with fair coins, that is with fifty-fifty for heads and tails, and deterministic when you have a coin with tails on both sides."

John grinned. "In reality, almost everything is a mixture of the two. Something in-between stochastic and deterministic."

"That's true, John," Cameron argued, "but in the beginning, it was believed that there is only one timeline, so the determinism would dominate."

"But we have now Kevin," John nodded. "He is the living proof for the manifold of timelines."

"If I get it right," Derek said, "Billy Wisher didn't disappear in the future because I killed Andy Goode."

"No, he is probably alive in his own timeline which is shared with Future John."

"I see."

"But to make things more difficult," she continued, "you cannot exclude the ripple effect so some things we did recently might have rippled to Future John's timeline as well. If a time traveler chooses a later date to jump back in time than you did he or she might report different events than you would."

"God, that's complicated," Sarah said.

"It is. So back to the temporal singularity: we believed that if one person from two different timelines chooses exactly the same time as a destination for jumping back they will merge into one entity. He would remember his both previous lives and he could tell which event happened in which timeline. The trouble is: for a short period after the jump, only one personality dominates and nobody knows which one."

"Correct me if I'm wrong," Derek interrupted, "but my brother did know he'd have only a 50% chance for survival? Or Connor pushed him?"

"Yes, he did. And no, Future John didn't push him. Kyle volunteered himself and he said he didn't care about the chances and told me to shut up when I gave him the probability of survival. He said only who dares wins."

"That goddamn picture," Derek sighed. "He was obsessed with that."

"What picture?" John asked.

"A picture of me," Sarah admitted. "My Kyle told me that John gave him a picture of me and he fell in love with that picture. Did that happen in your case as well?"

"Well, almost," Derek replied. "Once Kyle saw the picture he got mesmerized. He asked Connor to give it to him. To my surprise, he complied after some hesitation... I hated that thing, no offense, Sarah. And I told him that a couple of times but he just shrugged and said it was his lucky charm."

"What would have happened if he'd succeeded?" Sarah asked.

"Then he would have remembered everything, and probably could have defeated the T-800," Cameron replied.

"He failed, otherwise I would have had a father now," John sighed.

"Yes, John."

"So, what's the cunning plan?" Derek asked.

"We go back to 1983," John said. "We go invisible, and take a position at the automated factory where the final encounter took place. Then I take him and Cameron to a safe place, where she revives him with my blood. Meanwhile, I jump back to the factory, take his form and make sure I'm buried soon. Then I unite with Cam and Kyle and we jump back to you."

"That sounds quite easy," Sarah said.

"But it isn't. We need to act very carefully to avoid any ripple effects."

"And what if shit happens?" Derek asked.

"Then we go back again to make amends," John said. "We'll install ripple effect indicators, like photographs, objects, newspapers... we'll agree on questions and answers before the jump."

"God, I hope it's gonna work," Sarah sighed.

"Me too. I can't help thinking for five days of how to go back and save my father."

* * *

**Author's notes**

As you probably noticed, I switched to a nonlinear narrative for this chapter. And some politicians have been introduced! They seem surprisingly human. :) I plan them to be recurring characters so I had to construct a background for them.

For John Connor's date of birth... It would have been nice if the writers of the TSCC plot had watched the T1 movie. The whole story starts in 1984 there. TSCC starts, however, in September 1999, with the 15-year-old (soon to be 16-year-old) John Connor. Without using higher mathematics, it can be concluded that John was born in November 1983, which shifts Kyle's visit to early 1983. When writing my story, I chose to be consistent with TSCC, not T1, therefore I needed to change the time where the entire story had started.

I don't know if it's good news or bad but I am finished now with the Saudi thread. Everyone got what they deserved.

And finally, sorry for the temporal bullshit. :) It took me a lot of time to construct a theory that is not flawed deeply at a glance. It is still flawed but hey, this is fiction! :)

Again, big credit to Anticipation of a new lover's for helping me with the proofreading.

Reviews, comments are highly appreciated as always!


	4. Allison from Palmdale

**Allison from Palmdale**

**Tuesday, November 20, 2007, Baldwin Hills, 0800 hours local**

"John, if you change the angle of penetration by sixteen degrees that would bring me brand new experiences," Cameron said and put her legs on John's shoulders.

"Never underestimate the importance of geometry," John smirked and placed a kiss on her ankle. "But I warn you. If you squeeze your pussy by ten percent stronger, like this, I'm gonna cum seventy-five seconds earlier."

"You're making fun of me," she smiled and rubbed his face with her toes.

"Just a little bit," he smirked.

He started moving in her while kissing her ankle again. Her pretty feet made him overexcited, his pace went faster and faster and he was passionately kissing and licking her sole, and sucking her toes. It didn't last long until their bodies and souls united in an earth-quaking monster orgasm.

"That... was... awesome," John whispered.

"I didn't know you were a foot fetishist," Cameron said when they both got their breath back.

"Neither did I," he replied. "But I don't think I really am. It's just you."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, when it's about you, I'm a foot fetishist... and a thigh fetishist..." He started kissing her thigh then continued with her stomach. "... And a belly fetishist..."

She giggled.

He kept going with his kisses. "And an arm fetishist... an armpit fetishist... a neck fetishist..."

She closed her eyes and moaned with pleasure.

"...but first and foremost... I am... a titspervert!"

She giggled again as he tickled her nipples and fondled them with his lips. Then her face went serious.

"John?"

"Mmmm?"

"Do you like my breasts?"

"Of course I do, what kind of question is that?"

"But wouldn't you like them more if they were bigger? In that case, we could extend our repertoire with titfuck."

"I can surely live a whole life without titfuck," he frowned.

"I have an idea," she continued thoughtfully. "You would do experiments with mimetic polyalloys anyway. When you can produce some, which can mimic living tissue perfectly, I could temporarily grow large breasts and we could do titfuck."

John stared at her flabbergasted. "Cam! You are a fucking genius!"

"I just knew you would be excited about titfuck," she said with a hint of disappointment in her voice."

"Oh, forget the titfuck, for God's sake," he cried out. "Don't you see the perspectives?"

"Perspectives? Oh... You're right. I think I can see your point."

"Just imagine. An outer sheath for all of you. I think I could make it bulletproof and it could provide you shapeshifter abilities."

"That'd be really awesome. I'd like to see you suggest it to Sarah, though. And her face."

"You're right," he sighed. "Mom wouldn't be too enthusiastic to be turned into something like a T-1000. She was traumatized by that thing."

"Which is perfectly understandable after the encounter with the T-1000. She still wears the scars she got in the fight. By the way, have you ever considered curing her scars?"

"I'll ask her but frankly, I'm almost certain she wouldn't let me heal the scars. Neither would Derek. They are kinda proud of them and with a good reason."

"True... Anyway, I'm looking forward to trying your version of mimetic polyalloy sheath. It'd be great to be a shapeshifter. Mind you, you could fuck Cheri Westin anytime. Or Riley Dawson."

"Cameron!" John cried out angrily.

She giggled and touched his cock with two fingers.

"Oh-oh, bad idea! Serious shrinkage has happened! Let alone some softening."

"What did you expect? Neither of them is a real turn on for me... Especially not Riley. But you can restore the original hardness during a common shower. What do you say?"

"Challenge accepted!" she said. She took his hand and towed him towards the bathroom.

* * *

**Tuesday, November 20, 2007, Van Nuys, 0900 hours local**

Cameron was sitting in the car beneath John. But only her body was present as she was flooded with her memories. Or some memories, to be precise.

_She was running through the corridors of a dark, deserted bunker._

_She was desperately trying to escape but to no avail, she was completely entangled..._

"Earth to Cameron," John said.

"What?"

"Are you alright? You seem... distant."

She didn't reply; just stared out of the window.

"Cam? Are you alright?" John repeated a bit nervously.

"I don't know."

"What do you mean you don't know? You're freaking me out!"

"I don't know if it's good or bad... Some of my memories came back. Although they are quite weird."

"What memories?"

"Obviously from the future. I was trying to escape from a bunker. When I came out I spotted an HK. I tried to evade but I was captured by a net. I couldn't escape."

"What do you mean you couldn't escape? How come you didn't rip the net apart?"

"No clue, John."

"Look, I can examine you..."

"No need for that, I'm fine now."

"You sure?"

"Yes, I am."

"Okay, but we could do something when we get home. Something like hypnotic regression, for example."

"Yes, doctor," she smiled and he kissed her on the mouth.

"Hey, is it appropriate for a doctor and a patient to get involved in a sexual relationship?" she asked in mock indignation.

"Normally, no. But in our case, yes," he smirked and took her hand. He started stroking her fingers. So smooth, so delicate, he thought, yet, they could crack a bone in no time. He kissed her palm, then her fingers one by one.

"I forgot to say I'm a hand fetishist also," he said.

Cameron giggled and stroked his lips gently. "I'd better go shopping," she said finally.

"Okay. And I'm gonna get some stuff from Radio World. You know, for my little gadgets.

"Okay John, I'll meet you here. In half an hour?"

He nodded.

"Hey," John cried out. Cameron turned back.

"Please, get me some of those cheese things, all right? The crunchy ones, not the puffy ones."

Cameron frowned. She didn't like it when her John ate junk food.

* * *

Sarah stopped the car at Kacy's. She'd gotten a message on her phone from her which sounded like an emergency call. She left home immediately as she remembered well that Cameron had said after she touched Kacy's belly that the placenta seemed a bit detached from the uterus.

Kacy was waiting for her outside, visibly suffering from pain.

"I'm sorry to bother you," she said. "It's just... I'm having these weird pains."

"What kind of pains?" Sarah asked.

"Just like a spicy taco kind of pain," she answered. "But I haven't eaten any spicy tacos. Oh... and I'm bleeding!"

"We need to take you to the hospital," Sarah said.

"Thanks," she said and got into the car.

* * *

Cameron was pushing the shopping cart in the grocery store. As one of the wheels of the old cart got stuck again and again she noticed that her relief had been quite early. Her vision was interrupted by short static noises, and her HUD came back even though she didn't request it. It showed useless information about a large cardboard box by reading its barcode. As she went on she noticed a small basket full of apples. Again the analysis of the apple appeared on her HUD. Not exactly knowing what she was doing she took one apple to inspect it closely. It was very shiny, and somehow it initiated a short static noise again. Then she saw a heart-shaped balloon hovering above the basket. A very shiny balloon. As she stared at it her vision was disturbed by heavy static noise. Abruptly, she saw herself again struggling in the net.

She regained control. With a scared face she put the apple back in the basket and went on. The faulty wheel got stuck again and she lost control of the cart. She bumped heavily into a large pile of watermelons. The pile collapsed and some melons rolled away. Cameron couldn't get control over herself again, went into a semi standby mode, and didn't move anymore.

A young woman approached her.

"Miss? Are you all right?"

Cameron didn't show any sign of response.

"Someone get the manager."

A few minutes later a patrolman was trying to examine Cameron. He directed his torch straight into her eyes to check her pupils but they didn't narrow a bit.

"You been drinkin'? Taking drugs? You got a wallet or some kind of ID on you?"

She took out a wad of cash and showed it to the policeman. He frowned.

"What's your name?" he asked and aimed at her eyes again with his torch.

But she didn't hear that. Nor could she reply. She was sitting in a cell. She blinked; the harsh light was almost painful.

"_What's your name?_" A metallic voice asked.

"_My name? Why should I tell you?_"

"_If you don't, we'll give you one._ "

"_Go ahead. I'm dying to hear it_," she replied defiantly.

A T-888 endo stepped forward. It grabbed her arm and held it firmly above the table so she could hardly make any movement. It held an unfamiliar device above her arm, and she felt incredible pain as the barcode tattoo was burned onto her.

"_Allison! Allison Young!_" she screamed.

Cameron found herself standing by the grid in the cell, trying to get her memories back. A blond girl stepped to her.

"So, what are you in for?" she asked.

"I was in a store and I couldn't remember anything," Cameron replied.

The blond girl nodded. "Blackouts. Been there, done that."

Cameron looked down at her arm. She still had the vivid memories of the Triple-8 burning the barcode tattoo on her. The tattoo, however, wasn't there.

"Can tattoos disappear?" she asked suddenly.

They sat down on the only bench in the cell.

"Sure," the blond girl said. "Got two of my ex's lasered off. Ryan was right here."

She showed her shoulder.

"And Jose was here," she said with a smirk, pointing towards her crotch area. "Next time I'm thinking henna."

"Henna?"

The girl smiled and Cameron laughed too.

"I'm Jody," the blonde said.

"I'm... Allison," Cameron said, and she didn't lie.

A policeman opened the door and called Cameron and Jody. They were directed to the place where the properties were given back. Jody got back her jacket.

"Store owner's not pressing charges," the policeman said. "I don't wanna see you back here." He turned towards Jody. "And you... I'm sick of you."

Jody just replied with a sarcastic smile. Then she noticed the wad of cash Cameron got back and her smile disappeared.

"This is your last get out of jail free," he addressed Jody but she replied only with another sarcastic smile.

"Hey! Where you headed?" she asked Cameron.

"I don't know."

"Good."

"Why good?"

"'Cause you're comin' with me." She took her hand and they left the station.

* * *

The doctor was slowly dragging the ultrasound scanner on Kacy's stomach while watching the monitor.

"The placenta's still attached," she said. "There's no Previa... No evidence of major abruption."

"So everything's fine," Sarah stated.

"I wanna run a Kleihauer-Betke to rule out fetal blood cells," the doctor replied.

"What does that mean?" Kacy asked, a little worried.

"We wanna make sure the blood is yours and not the baby's."

"What if it is the baby's?"

"Then we do an emergency C-section. But let's not get ahead of ourselves," the doctor said and left the room.

"That didn't sound good," Kacy said.

"No, it didn't," Sarah agreed.

"Hey, look, I know you're busy, so if you need to go..."

"Can I call someone?" Sara inquired.

"You mean like the father?" She hesitated a bit. "I'll be fine. Go."

Sarah stood still for a few seconds then sat down resolutely. Kacy gave her a grateful smile.

* * *

Cameron was sitting in a dark cell. In fact, it was rather a vision but such a strong vision that she almost forgot where she was physically. The rusty steel door opened and an endo terminator pushed a dish towards her, then left. She had only one quick look at the content then with a swift movement she spread the disgusting crud on the wall.

She came back from her vision and looked down at the content of her dish. "So much food," she said.

"I know," Jody nodded. "We're totally puking later. But whatever. It's an occasion."

Cameron smiled. "I like your necklace."

"It's cool, huh?" Jody touched the stone. "I got it from this awesome thrift store in Echo Park."

She reached towards a passerby and took out a pencil from his back pocket without anyone noticing her action.

"So..." she smirked. "Two years ago, when I moved here from Michigan, I had this internship at a storefront in Chinatown. The designer was this total druggie. And when I finally called him out on what stuck up and talentless bitch he was, I got fired from my unpaid job."

Her hand was busy as she was drawing quickly something on the napkin. She released a bitter smile.

"That's when I started crashing with people and doing, you know, whatever for money... Which got sketchy real quick. Especially in LA. The city is like a freak magnet."

She finished her drawing and showed the result to Cameron.

"You'd look really pretty in this."

Cameron smiled.

Suddenly they heard a male voice. "Hey, Jody!"

"We should bounce," Jody jumped up. But it was too late.

"How much you get for it, bitch?" The long-haired tall guy shouted.

"Don't know what you're talking about."

"My laptop, with all the stuff?"

"I didn't take your laptop, dude."

"It just disappeared the day you left," he pointed out.

"Okay, look," she started to explain something but he hit her in the mouth with his fist.

Cameron rushed towards her to check her injury. The guy roughly turned her around and grabbed her chin.

"Who are you, huh? You a little thief too?"

Cameron looked totally scared. She took out the wad of cash and gave it to the guy.

"Just take it. Go! Please just go!" she shouted.

"The next time I see you, you'd better have me something," he warned Jody, then left.

* * *

John entered the grocery store with the naughty idea that he would silently approach and hug her from behind. But he couldn't find her in the store.

"What happened here?" John asked with a worried face.

"Some girl totally wigged out," a customer said.

"What do you mean, wigged out?"

"She's on drugs or something. She couldn't even remember her own name."

"What'd she look like?"

"Wanna guess like 16, 17, brown hair, maybe like 5'8"..."

"Where is she now?"

"Cops took her."

John took a deep breath before entering the police station. Lion's cave. He had no idea what was going on and he seriously took into account the possibility that he might need to utilize some of his trick collection. "_But first let's try the simple way_," he thought. "_Like a scared brother. Behave natural._" He didn't need too much of his acting talent to play that he was already very worried.

He addressed the policeman behind the plexiglass.

"Hey, I'm looking for my sister," he said. "She was picked up at the food mart on Van Nuys."

The policeman nodded. "Yeah, that one. We released her about an hour ago."

"Did she say where she was going?"

The policeman placed his weight on the counter, considering if he should refuse the answer or not.

"I'm sorry, but I really need to find her, okay?" John continued. "She's on medication... My mom's gonna kill me... She might kill her, actually."

The policeman now showed some sympathy for seeing the poor kid's desperate face.

"She left with one of the street kids, Jody," he said.

"Do you know where Jody hangs out?"

"Usually gets popped along the boulevard."

"All right, thanks."

"_Jody_...," John thought while he fastened the safety belt in the car. "_What the hell is going on... It's high time to utilize my tricks._"

He closed his eyes and concentrated on Cameron. It didn't work. "_Okay, I'm too nervous_," he thought. He relaxed, took some deep breaths, and when he felt ready he closed his eyes again and focused on his girlfriend with all his mental power.

A few seconds passed then he opened his eyes again. He felt like a giant's hand had grabbed his stomach and made a huge twist on it, accompanied by pouring some acid into that. Abruptly he felt such a panic he couldn't remember when he had felt something like that the last time.

Cameron wasn't anywhere.

That meant she had been killed or deactivated. The fear following these thoughts was overwhelming. He hyperventilated and grabbed the wheel with such power that his knuckles went white.

Then he remembered what his mother taught him. A quote from Frank Herbert's Dune. He wasn't a big fan of the Dune universe but he liked some parts in it. "_I have no fear, for fear is the little death that kills me over and over,_" he thought. Then the Bene Gesserit Litany Against Fear appeared in his mind's-eye. He said in a low trembling voice.

"_I must not fear. Fear is the mind-killer. Fear is the little-death that brings total obliteration. I will face my fear. I will permit it to pass over me and through me. And when it has gone past I will turn the inner eye to see its path. Where the fear has gone there will be nothing. Only I will remain._"

He needed to repeat the litany two more times to get back his calmness. But he succeeded finally. Indeed only he remained. Meaning that he could think of the next step to find his Cameron.

* * *

"It's a boy, you know," Kacy said.

"Boy's good," Sarah smiled.

"I hate being trapped in bed feeling like there's nothing I can do," the pregnant woman sighed. "If you can't protect them when they're still inside you, how can you ever protect them?"

"What was yours like?" she asked Sarah. She didn't notice the change of Sarah's facial expression as she tried to hide the pain stirred up unintentionally by Kacy's question.

"When John was born," she started slowly, "I was living in Central America at the time. We were hiking in the jungle when my water broke. Tried to get to the nearest town, but there wasn't time."

"Did you have anything for the pain?"

"Bottle of dark rum."

Kacy smiled. "And John's father?"

The question hit Sarah. "He was right there with me," she lied. "I remember holding his hand really tight." She looked aside and suppressed a sob.

Kacy didn't notice Sarah's hard moment. "Gosh, how did you finally get out of there?"

"Hitched a ride on a chicken bus. Tobacco farmer handed out cigars. We smoked and then sang this birthday song."

Kacy smiled. "Oh, sing a little bit for me."

"My Spanish is rusty and I've never been able to sing."

"So?"

"_Estas son las mañanitas_,

_que cantaba el Rey David_"

Kacey giggled.

"_Hoy por ser día de tu santo_

_Te las cantamos a ti_"

The door swung open. Kacy's smile disappeared.

"I heard you were here," the man, who entered the room, said. "I was worried. Is everything uh..."

"We're waiting on some test results," Kacy said.

"I'm Trevor," he said and shook hands with Sarah.

"Sarah," she replied. "I should go... Unless you need something else."

Kacy gave her a please-don't-go look. "Maybe some magazines?" she said.

* * *

Sarah stopped by the window of the room for the newborn babies. "So innocents," she thought. "_Then some of them will be scientists, some of them teachers, and some of them mass murderers._" She took her phone and called John.

"Hey, just checking in," she said. "What are you doing?"

"Nothing," he replied a little too quickly. "Cameron and I are shopping. What are you doing?"

"I took Kacy to the hospital."

"Is she okay?"

"They're running a few tests. I'm gonna be a while."

"How long?"

"I don't know. Why?"

"Delicious!" she heard a strange voice. "Who was that?"

"Nobody. I gotta go." He hung up.

Sarah frowned. John was acting weird.

* * *

**Los Angeles Unified School District headquarters, Downtown LA, Friday, November 19th, 2007, 0950 local**

"Thank you for calling me," Detective Camila Ruiz said.

"I hope you'll find them," the officer said. "Is this case still relevant?"

"No corpses matching the descriptions have been found in the recent days," Camila answered dryly. "So, yes, it's still important to find them."

"I'll show you the records from the database."

"Thank you."

A list appeared on the screen. The officer stared at it.

"What's wrong?" Camila asked.

"It's interesting. I've got a very new record. Campo de Cahuenga. I was looking for disappearances and homeschooling files only when at least one boy and one girl were involved.

Camila looked at the screen.

Cartwright High School: Davoren, Johnathan; Davoren, Meredith, Grade 12

Campo De Cahuenga High School: Baum, John; Baum, Cameron, Grade 10

Coldwater High School: Pierce, Matthew, Grade 11; Cleary, Bridget, Grade 12

"Do you need a piece of paper?" the officer asked.

"What?"

"You know, for writing notes."

"No, thank you, I've got my own notebook."

She wrote down the content of the screen. "Thank you for your help," she said finally.

"You're welcome... Uh,... do you have plans for dinner?"

Camila offered him a warm smile. "Yes, actually we do with my boyfriend. But thanks for asking."

She went downstairs then left the building. She took her phone. Cedric Crawford, her partner both in work and in private life, answered her call immediately.

"Yes?"

"Did you like your morning coffee?"

"I'm alone," he replied. "You can talk."

That was their secret code. If the answer was somehow related to the question that would mean no free talking.

"I've found them," Camila said. "The name is Baum. Campo De Cahuenga High School. Let's meet there."

"We are already halfway there. Randy and Trevor with the other car."

"How come?"

"There was a homicide at the school."

* * *

The murderer looked around in the restroom looking at the tiles on the wall. One specific tile, to be precise. That tile sounded differently when it was knocked on carefully. The murderer took a small tube of glue, carefully removed the loose tile, applied a small amount of glue on it, unscrewed the silencer, placed everything in the cavity, including the glue, then placed back the tile. The glue would hold the tile in place but it wouldn't be difficult to remove again to get back the gun.

* * *

**Zeira Corp, Downtown L.A. 0900 hours local**

"Thank you for taking the time to see me," James Ellison said while he and Catherine Weaver were walking towards the large glass conference table in Weaver's office. Ellison cast a quick look at the large fish tank with an eel in it.

"I understand your reluctance to discuss these things over the phone," she replied. "But I'm pleased you're still considering my job offer." She gestured to him to take a seat.

"I am. Thank you." He sat down.

"I appreciate a man who's calm and careful in his decision making," she said.

"The last time I went hunting for these things, you want me to hunt, 20 other people died. I won't let that happen again," he said bitterly.

"Nor should you."

"These things... They're evil," he said slowly.

"We have to be careful, Agent, not to anthropomorphize a machine," she retorted.

"These are more than machines, Ms. Weaver. But I'll never make the mistake of thinking they're human."

She sat down and crossed her legs. "Two years ago, my husband and I were in a helicopter accident. He was killed."

"I'm sorry."

"He was flying us to Barstow. There was a microchip plant there doing some amazing things."

"So your husband was a pilot."

"He had over 700 hours on that particular helicopter. It was his passion." Her face reflected pain.

"This is difficult for you," Ellison stated.

"The Kulishov A-85 is a beautiful flying machine. Like the most perfect bird. It's almost flawless in its design."

"Almost flawless?"

"It needs a human to fly it."

"Are you saying that machines make better decisions than humans?"

"What I think," she started slowly, "is that in certain extreme conditions, even the most calm and careful of men panic."

Ellison thought it was better not to say anything.

"Help me find this machine, Agent," she continued. "You and I'll take it apart piece by piece. I'm not sure what we'll find, but I doubt we'll find evil."

* * *

"All I'm saying is sometimes you gotta take a punch once in a while in order to keep the cash," Jody said while they were standing by the registration desk inside the halfway house. "That was a lot of cash."

"I'm sorry," Cameron said meekly.

Jody started to fill out a form.

"Fill it out so we can crash here for a couple of nights," she said.

"I don't know what to write," Cameron replied.

"Doesn't matter. Lie," Jody responded cynically.

Cameron started to fill out the form. She wrote "Alison Young" into "Name" field.

They got a room, and she started to apply makeup on Jody's face. They were sitting on the top level of the bunk bed.

"The other catch is you have to have this interview with a counselor," Jody said. "Just BS your way through it. Don't tell them anything real."

Cameron gave her the mirror to check the result.

"Nice. Where'd you learn how to do that?"

Cameron looked down. "I don't know."

"You weren't, like getting beaten up or anything, were you?"

Cameron turned away. Jody sensed something which made her feel truly sorry for the girl.

"Sorry about that thing I said earlier about taking a punch. If you've gotten your fill, I shouldn't have said it."

Cameron looked at her sadly.

"But don't worry. From now on I got your back," she said and gave the necklace to her, getting a grateful smile in return.

* * *

James Ellison was looking around in his ex-wife's office with mixed feelings. He thought he was over the divorce, yet, a picture of zebras, which looked like a holiday photo, filled him with melancholy.

"Wasn't easy getting that shot," he heard a way too familiar voice from behind.

"Where was it?" he asked.

"Tanzania. Paul and I just got back a couple of weeks ago."

James almost made a bitter remark but changed his mind.

"But you didn't come here to talk about zebras," she stated.

"I was hoping you could run a check on someone for me. Off the record."

They both sat down.

"Who is it?" she inquired.

"Catherine Weaver," he replied. "Zeira Corp."

"What's your interest in her?"

"Actually, she's interested in me," he smirked. "She offered me a job."

"You're leaving the bureau?"

"It's just an offer, Lila."

She scrutinized him for a second. "You're not wearing your cross."

"How do you know?"

"The way you're carrying yourself... What happened in North Hollywood... That wasn't your fault," she said empathically.

James shook his head. The secretary entered the office and handed a dossier to Lila.

"Agent Ellison? Got those updated 302s for you."

"Thank you, Liz."

"Glad you kept the name," he smiled.

"It's a good name," she said with firm belief.

* * *

Cameron sat on the couch of the counselor called Rita.

"_Where are you from, Allison?_" the metallic voice asked in her memories.

"_I don't remember_," Allison replied.

"Where are you from, Allison?" Rita asked.

"I don't remember."

"You don't remember what town you're from?" Rita asked.

"_Why does it matter?_" Allison replied. "_It's not there anymore._"

"You know, sometimes when people forget, it's because they need to forget because something painful has happened. I'm wondering if something has happened to you," Rita said.

"_Tell me about your life_," the terminator said.

"_I live in a tunnel. I eat garbage for dinner_," Allison replied.

"Anything you say in here is confidential," Rita emphasized. "The only exception is if you were planning to harm someone... I would have to report that."

Cameron shook her head. "I would never hurt anyone."

"_Tell me about your family_," the terminator requested.

"Memory is a very associative thing," Rita said. "Sometimes sights, sounds, even a smell can take us back."

Cameron remembered the filthy door in her cell when she was interrogated. She said exactly the same thing to Rita that she thought she'd said to the interrogator machine.

"My father was an architect. He taught me how to draw. My mother was a music teacher. She'd sit for hours and listen to Chopin."

"What's that bracelet on your arm?" the terminator inquired.

"My sister gave it to me for my birthday. July 22nd. I had a party in Griffith Park. All my friends were there," Cameron and Allison said both on the verge of tears. "I saw a boy ride by on his silver mountain bike, and I told my dad 'that's what I want'. And he said next year. But I didn't have a party the next year. No one did."

"_Why not?_"

"_Everyone was dead._"

"Why not?" Rita asked.

Cameron didn't say anything. Tears started to roll down on her face. Her look settled on a small tiger statue.

"It's a Balinese tiger," Rita said.

"Have you ever seen a real one?" Cameron asked.

"Unfortunately, they were hunted to extinction in the '30s," Rita replied with a sad face.

"Do you ever think that could happen to us? To humans?" Cameron asked with a worried face.

Rita stood up and sat down soothingly next to Cameron. She gently touched her shoulder. "Is that something you worry about?"

_She remembered she was crying. She closed her eyes._ "_I wanna go home._"

"_Where is home?_"

"Palmdale!" Cameron said suddenly.

"Palmdale?" Rita asked, a bit confused.

"That's where I'm from."

"Your parents name?" Rita asked and opened a phone book.

"Claire and David Young," Cameron replied.

Rita dialed the number and handed the telephone over.

"Mom?" Cameron asked when she heard that someone answered the phone. "It's me. Allison."

"I'm sorry. You must have the wrong number," Claire replied.

Cameron didn't say anything just lowered the phone. She almost dropped it. She stood up and went to the window, shaking her head in disbelief. Tears started rolling down again from her eyes. Rita took the phone away.

"Mrs. Young?"

"Yes, this is Claire Young."

"I'm here with your daughter."

"There must be some mistake. I don't have a daughter. Not yet. Very pretty name, though, Allison."

* * *

John rushed into a cafe to ask people around desperately.

"Hey, do you know a Jody, by any chance? Jody? Do you know a Jody?"

Some people shook their heads.

"Anybody here know a Jody?" He asked again.

"Yeah, yeah, I know her," a guy replied. "She was here with some other chick."

John heaved a sigh of relief. "Do you know where she went?"

"Nah. But she hangs out at this halfway house sometimes on Yucca."

"Yucca. Thanks!"

While running towards the car, John tried again to calm down. "_Some other chick,_" he thought. Adding that to what the cop had said it was quite plausible that Cameron had some kind of amnesia, then met with that Jody girl while they were in custody. Yes, that made sense.

He started the engine. Yucca was only a few minutes away.

* * *

She was lying on the bottom level of the bunk bed, still weeping.

"She didn't even know who I was."

"Parents suck," Jody said above her with her usual cynicism. "Especially mothers."

"Why would she do that to me?"

"Who knows why anyone does anything?" Jody replied.

She sat up and bent down. "Come on," she said. "Let's go have some fun."

* * *

Lila had a quick look at the report then gave it to James.

"No criminal history. No pending SCC's investigations. Nothing from FinCEN. Her CTRs all check out... Not even a civil suit."

"That's good to know," he said.

"James, before you make such a huge change, don't you think you should talk to someone?"

He didn't listen.

"Marshal Weaver's helicopter crash was due to mechanical failure?" he mused.

"You're not listening to me. I talked to a couple of people. It's possible you're suffering from-"

"What people? Paul?"

"He served in the Persian Gulf. He's got experience with this kind of thing."

"I came to you in confidence," he scoffed.

"I'm worried about you, James. I've never seen you in so much pain," she said empathically.

"Yeah, we both know that's not true. "Thank you for the report," he said dryly, then left.

* * *

John rushed into the bar that belonged to the halfway house. It was a tremendous relief to see Cameron playing foosball with a blond girl. They were obviously having fun. Cameron was laughing but got a score from the blonde and hit the table slightly with both hands as a sign of frustration.

"Yes! I'm gonna go get a soda," the blonde said and left.

John stepped to Cameron.

"What the hell are you doing?"

"Playing foosball," she replied with an isn't-it-obvious look.

"We've gotta go," he said.

"Go? Where?"

"Home."

"Home? Who are you?"

John was a bit clueless. "Cameron..."

"My name's Allison," she stated.

"No, it's not. It's Cameron. I can't explain this to you right now. We have to go."

"You're freaking me out," she said in a low voice.

"I'm freaking you out?" he asked in disbelief.

She nodded and looked genuinely scared, with large innocent eyes.

"You really don't know who you are?"

"I'm Allison. From Palmdale," she said resolutely.

"You're not Allison. You're not from Palmdale," he argued. "You're from the future. You're a cyborg."

"A what?" she asked and stared at him like he was a complete idiot.

"The chip is messed up again, but I can fix you. I fixed you once, remember? Or rather, I helped you to fix yourself."

"Fixed me?" she asked nervously. "Why would you fix me?"

Abruptly, the vision came to her overwhelmingly. _She just escaped from the cell with the filthy door. She was running along a dark corridor, opened the door then locked it behind her. It was a strange dark room with cages. In the cages, she saw desperate humans. Some of them behaved not as humans anymore, much more like animals. She also saw a tiger and a black bear in two separate cages._ _She reached the steps then she found herself on the deck of a shipwreck that used to be an aircraft carrier. Searchlights spotted her as she stood at the edge of the deck and jumped into the water after a short hesitation._ _To no avail. She was caught by a net again and slowly raised above the waterline..._

"Come on, we have to get out of here," John interrupted her vision and grabbed her arm.

"Wait, what did you do?" she cried out. "Did you hurt me?"

Jody came back with a soda. "Is there a problem?"

"No," he said. "I'm her boyfriend. John."

Cameron shook her head. "I don't have a boyfriend."

Jody looked at him suspiciously. "Look, dude, I don't know who you are, but you really..."

John made another attempt to drag her out of the bar but in response, Cameron grabbed him by the shoulder and pushed him firmly against the wall. Jody stared at her flabbergasted, shocked how strong this weird girl was.

The security guy came over. "Sir, you need to leave."

John cast her an angry look but she just crossed her arms in front of her chest defiantly. "_That was that_," he thought. "_It's high time to use my power._" He seemingly complied and followed the security guy slowly, but he took a deep breath and scanned Cameron's mind mentally. He wasn't surprised to find someone else instead of Cameron. A strange entity who believed to be a human. After a second of search, he also found Cameron in a sleeping state. Now, what he had to do is only to wake her up...

"John!" she heard Cameron's desperate voice. He turned around.

Cameron rushed towards him and flung into his arms.

"I'm sorry! I'm so sorry," she sobbed. She held him so tight that he could hardly breathe.

"It's okay, it's okay," he said and gently stroked her head. "I'm happy that you remember again."

The security guy left. Jody's face reflected disappointment which Cameron didn't recognize, but John did. He scanned her mind and he was almost taken aback seeing what Jody's plans were with Cameron.

"Let's go," he said softly and kissed Cameron. "We have to go back to Palmdale quite soon."

"Palmdale?" Cameron asked.

He looked into her eyes. "Yes, Palmdale."

She understood. John probably had a reason to say that.

"It's time to say goodbye then, I guess," Jody said.

"Well, thank you so much for keeping an eye on her," John said.

"No problem," she replied. She wanted to say something else but Cameron hugged her warmly.

"I'll see you around, huh?"

"Sure," Jody responded with a forced smile. "If you want to."

"Of course!" Cameron replied. "We need to go. I'm very very grateful to you for looking after me... But I can't keep it." She gave the necklace back to Jody. "After closer inspection, it seems too expensive for a gift."

Jody smiled again and didn't protest. They waved goodbye, then John and Cameron left the bar.

* * *

**Los Angeles, Campo De Cahuenga High School, North Hollywood, Friday, November 19th, 2007, 0950 local**

"Where is Trevor?" Camila asked when they joined Randy Fletcher in front of the entrance.

"I drove him to the hospital," Randy replied.

"What? Why?"

"Something wrong with his girlfriend. She was bleeding and the neighbor brought her to the hospital. Fortunately, because she couldn't have driven a car. I hope the baby is alright."

"Oh God, me too," she gasped. "Lucky, she has a nice neighbor who is reliable."

"Yeah, that's lucky," Cedric agreed.

"What?" Randy asked when he noticed that Camila was scrutinizing him with a suspicious look.

"Mmm... What is this new style, Randy? This topcoat, the vest, derby shoes... You look like a stereotype prohibition cop from the twenties. There is only one thing missing."

"And what is that?"

"Fedora. Or derby."

"Oh, I left my fedora in the car."

"You do have a fedora?" Camila raised her eyebrows. "I meant that for a joke... Anyway, what's going on with you?"

Randy Fletcher gave her a shy smile. "It's my new girlfriend. It's a huge turn-on for her if I dress like a prohibition cop."

"Long live the pervert girlfriends!" Cedric interrupted the discussion.

"Hey, are you insinuating something?" she asked with mock indignation and nudged his side with her elbow.

"I would never do that!" he replied with a smirk.

They entered the building and showed their shields to the patrolmen who were all around the school.

"Who's the stiff?" Randy asked.

"Well, the _victim _is," Cedric emphasized the word victim, "Geoffrey Harris. The counselor of the school, 31 years old, single, lived alone... Look at that, who's there! Our favorite patrolman, Mr. Jackson."

"Oh, the HSS," Jackson frowned. "You again?"

"Charming as always," Camila replied with a friendly smile. "Would you let us in?"

Officer Jackson stepped aside with a frown and they could enter the counselor's room. Mr. Harris lay on the floor with a puddle of blood around his head. The impact hole of the bullet could clearly be seen on his forehead. His blue eyes had not become glassy yet, they just stared into nothing. The forensic guys were busy working in the room while the photographer shot photographs almost every second.

"You're gonna fill up your memory card pretty soon, David," Randy said with a smile.

"Yeah, but you ain't gonna get a second chance," the photographer called David replied. "You can't come back later and tell the model to pose for you again because you'd fucked up the focus, can you?"

Randy chuckled. "No, you certainly can't."

The three homicide cops looked around in the office paying attention to every little detail. When finished, Cedric looked at the victim from close.

"It seems to be 9mm," he said. "Okay, why don't you interview the principal? I'm asking the students."

In order to get to the principal's office, one had to go through the secretary's office. The secretary - a lady in her mid-fifties - seemed very nervous and distracted. She introduced herself as Blanche Holt.

"It's terrible! Terrible, isn't it? I still can't believe that happened! Poor Mr. Harris."

She knocked and opened the principal's door.

"Mrs. McGill, the detectives have arrived from the Homicide Department. Cecilia Rodriguez and Rudy Fletcher."

"Actually, Camila Ruiz and Randy Fletcher."

"Oh, I'm terribly sorry! _Camille _Ruiz and Randy Fletcher."

Camila decided to let it go.

"Thank you, Blanche," the principal said. She also seemed still shocked by the events.

"We heard you'd found the victim, is that true, Ms. McGill?" Fletcher asked.

"Mrs. McGill, please," she replied. "I prefer being called so. Or you can even call me Greta. And yes, it was me who found Mr. Harris."

"Could you please tell us exactly how you found him?" Randy asked.

"What do you mean, detective? I opened the door and saw him shot dead."

"We are very much interested in how you got there from your office," Camila said. "Which way you took, who you met, what you heard... Every little detail could be important."

"Very well... I left my office a bit more than an hour ago with an intent to ask Mr. Harris to collect his activities from the previous two months. A statistic is being built statewide how grief counseling works in schools with the purpose of building a more effective strategy to improve the student's mental health in the long run... As you could probably see, Mr. Harris's office is very close to this one so I didn't have the chance to meet many people. Four students were passing by, I can give you their names if you want me to."

"Thank you, Mrs. McGill, it might be necessary," Randy nodded. "Did Mr. Harris get along with the colleagues?"

"I suppose so. I never heard about any hostilities. However..."

"However?" Camila asked.

"Nah, those are only rumors. I can't confirm if it's true or not so I'd rather not insinuate anything."

"We'll treat that as a rumor then," Camila insisted. "Yet, we still need to know that, it might lead us somewhere."

"Very well... Two months ago a cheerleader committed suicide. Rumor had it she was romantically involved with Mr. Harris. And someone painted rather artistic paintings on a door. Trompe l'œil paintings... Those are quite realistic images creating optical illusion... Fake three-D so to speak-"

"We know what trompe l'œil paintings are," Camila smiled. "Do you have photos of those paintings?"

"Sure! I can give you copies."

Greta stood up and took a folder from the shelf. They were looking at the photos one by one.

"We don't have a picture on the first painting," Greta said. "But there was an 'A' on it. Extended here to 'DAN'."

"That looks like a bra," Randy said pointing to the first picture.

The second picture depicted a silhouette of a kissing couple. The door was ajar and a small part of a cheerleader's skirt was revealed.

"It's 'IDAN'," Camila said. "I guess the next one would have been 'UIDAN', then 'GUIDAN'..."

"Yes, that was what the rumors were about," Greta nodded.

"It seems like blackmail to me," Randy said. "The question is, who was the target. The girl who committed suicide, Mr. Harris, or both."

"You think the blackmailer was the murderer?" Greta inquired.

"It's clearly a possibility we cannot ignore," Randy agreed. "But I assume Mr. Harris didn't speak about the possible blackmail."

"No. He didn't speak about anything related to the suicide. And no one asked him directly the question if there was something between him and the poor girl called Jordon Cowan."

"Do you know of a student who might have witnessed something?"

"Mind you... I remember that he invited a student to his room. She didn't ask him for advice, he just invited her. Why? She was the last one known to speak with Jordon."

"What if he wanted to find out if Jordon told her something before she killed herself?" Camila asked.

"It is possible," Greta nodded.

"It might be useful to speak with that girl. Could you have her in?"

"I'm afraid I can't. Cameron switched to homeschooling. She was here yesterday."

"Cameron?"

"Yes, she's called Cameron Baum."

Camila didn't wince. "Can you give me her address and phone number?"

"Sure." She took a piece of paper and wrote something down. "Her brother, John, does homeschooling also."

"I see... Mrs. McGill, could you please give us a copy of the records of your students and your staff? Photos, home addresses, phone numbers... Since when the employees started working here..."

"Of course. But you should ask Blanche, the secretary for that."

The detectives stood up. "Ma'am, thank you so much for your time,"

"Don't mention it."

She opened the door. "Blanche, could you please make a photocopy of the records of the students and our staff and organize them in a folder?"

"Certainly, Mrs. McGill."

"Oh, a question to both of you," Randy said. "Did you hear the shot?"

The two ladies looked at each other. "No," they said almost in unison, "No, we didn't."

Blanche started to make the copies, Greta said goodbye and went back to her office to arrange some phone calls.

"Ms. Holt, did you see, hear, or notice anything unusual?" Randy asked.

"No, I didn't. Actually, I didn't even leave the room since I arrived in the morning. I didn't even take a pee-"

"Thank you, Ms. Holt."

"You should ask the students also. They might have noticed something... and the teachers..."

Randy smiled. "I appreciate that Ms. Holt, but... it's not our first day as homicide cops, you know."

"Oh, I'm truly sorry! Of course! You run across all sorts of things, I suppose."

"No problem." Randy's lips curved into an evil grin. "We need to leave now but Cecilia will come back later for the folder."

"All right, Mr. Fisher."

"Nice one," Camila said when they left the room.

"Cecilia... it's a pretty name. I like it."

Camila rolled her eyes. "Anyway, I think our guy used a silencer."

"Me, too. Almost certainly," he nodded.

"That's a lot of help, isn't it?"

"Yeah, yeah, a great deal of help," Randy grimaced.

"Come on! That somewhat reduces the probability that the murderer was a student. I'd vote for an employee."

"Perhaps Ms. Blanche Holt herself?"

Camila burst out laughing. "Or Greta McGee?"

"Anyway, their offices will be searched by the patrolmen... We need to find the gun."

"It's not that easy to smuggle it out of the building."

Abruptly they heard shouting from outside.

"Jumper! A girl! Outside the gym!"

"Great!" Randy snorted. "Someone else too got the crazy idea."

They were running up the steps that were leading to the roof.

"Are you coming too?" Camila asked.

"Of course, why wouldn't I?"

Camila smirked. "If the poor girl sees you she'll jump down for sure."

Randy started singing trying to imitate Art Garfunkel's voice with moderate success.

_"Cecilia, you're breaking my heart,_

_You're shaking my confidence daily"_

"Oh, shut up, Rudy," she retorted.

They both chuckled.

"Okay, leave it to me, will you?" Camila said when they reached the top.

"Fine, fine. I won't say a word."

The blond girl was standing at the edge, trying to get the courage to do the fatal jump.

"Don't come any closer," she said. She didn't even look back.

"Are you really thinking of ending your life?" Camila asked.

"No, I'm learning to fly," the blond girl said sarcastically. "This is my first lesson, you know. And probably the last one."

"You'll be surprised but we met someone who did seriously think that."

The girl looked back at Camila.

"She was a drug addict, though. You don't seem like one."

"Because I am not."

"Would you tell us why you want to jump?"

"Why would I?"

"I need to know," Camila said almost whispering. There was something in her voice that made the girl step back and turn towards the detectives.

"Please but don't come any closer. I can't tell you anything. Especially to cops."

"Well then, let's forget that we are cops. I'm just here to hear you out and anything you'll say will be off the record. I mean it."

"I thought you would ask for an ID first as Dirty Harry did," Randy said.

"Randy, you're not helping," Camila hissed.

"Relax, I'm just releasing the tension," he retorted.

"Still, shut up, will you?"

The girl gave them a faint smile. "You look like a cop in those old noir detective movies."

"Don't tell anyone," Camila leaned closer, "but he's a time traveler. He came to collect evidence against Al Capone. When he's finished here he'll go back to the roaring twenties."

"That's true," Randy nodded. "I belong there."

The blond girl couldn't help laughing. "You guys are funny, you know that?"

Camila shrugged. "I'm dead serious."

"Yeah, I need to lead a raid against two speakeasies when I'm finished here," Randy agreed.

The girl laughed again then her smile fainted. "Fine. If you give us protection then I won't jump and tell you everything."

"Who's us?" Camila asked.

"Me and my father."

"The only thing that I can promise," Camila started slowly, "is that I'll do my best. It depends on the circumstances of what protection we could offer. Just as an example: if someone is a murderer then he or she will be tried. I can't make promises which are beyond my jurisdiction."

The girl shook her head. "My dad is definitely not a murderer. In fact, he fled from the bad guys after my mom died."

"The protection will be no problem then," Camila said. She reached her hand towards the girl who took it. She couldn't help noticing how beautiful and warm the olive green eyes of the detective were.

"And what's your name dear?" Camila asked.

"Cheri. Cheri Westin."

* * *

They were sitting in the car. It was John now who was driving home.

"What the hell was that, Cameron? I was truly never so scared in my life. Including the moment when the T-1000 tried to stab me. You did scare the shit out of me."

Tears started rolling on Cameron's face.

"I'm so sorry, John!"

John reached towards her and stroked her face gently.

"I didn't mean to be reproachful. I just... thought for a moment that I lost you and it was unbearable... I was panicked for a while and that is unacceptable. I mean I can't afford to lose control."

She took his hand and kissed his knuckles.

"I believed I was someone else."

"Allison?"

"Yes."

"Allison Young?"

"Yes."

"This is the same name Kevin told us. One of the foster kids of the other us in the future."

"My living tissue infiltration sheath was based upon her."

"What?"

"She was my template. And because I experienced her memories like my memories, I think Skynet somehow found a way to implant them into me. Future John deleted all my previous memories but obviously, he didn't manage to do it for good."

"What happened to her?"

"I don't know. My last memories, before you came, was that I... she... was running up the steps of an old decommissioned aircraft carrier, jumped in the water and was caught by a net... Then you came and I could take over again... I don't think she could escape. Otherwise I'd know that. She was probably terminated by Skynet after all the pieces of information were collected."

"Look, I think I can restore all of your memories-"

"I think so too... But please, don't. I don't think I'm ready to experience more from this nightmare."

"It's your decision, Cam."

"No, it's yours also because you're my commanding officer, not only my boyfriend," she smiled faintly.

"Fair enough," he sighed. "But I think I leave the decision to you... The only thing that bothers me, that shit could happen again. I couldn't spot your location in that case."

"That's probably because I wasn't myself. You were looking for Cameron but if this ever happens again, and I hope it won't, but if it does, you should search for Allison. You scanned me when you found me didn't you?"

"Yeah, I did. I noticed you were someone else."

"Good."

"Good?"

"Yes. Next time you'll be able to find me if you concentrate on Allison within me. If it ever happens, that is."

"I strongly hope it won't. Cam, I was so terrified! It was a good lesson for me, however, to learn to control my fear."

"Only thing we have to fear is fear itself."

"FDR."

"Yes."

"Hey," John said. "I saw you liked playing foosball... We could buy a table if you want to."

"That'd be nice," she smiled. "It's interesting, though."

"What?"

"When I played with Jody I did play like a human who plays the game for the first time. Not like a terminator. Not like when I played pool in _Broken Atom_."

"Because now you believed you were human."

"Oh, yeah, I did," she nodded. "That's surreal... I even called my mother."

"Your what?"

"Actually, Allison's mother. She's called Claire Young."

"And?"

"She said she didn't have a daughter. Yet."

"Maybe she's pregnant now with the real Allison."

"Probably."

"She's got to be protected also. Remember what Kevin said? He's expecting further reinforcements, and one of them has the mission to protect Allison."

"Probably the other T-3000," Cameron said. "The first one is Kevin's wife. And the third one is a T-X-like cyborg with onboard weaponry but he was not made out of metal."

"Three other cyborgs... That's gonna be interesting. I hope they will arrive without a problem... Anyway, back to the topic. Did you say anything to Claire Young? Or reveal anything to anyone?"

"I couldn't John. I told you I thought I was human but I only remembered Allison's memories. I have no clue, however, how I had acquired those. They seemed very real."

"Maybe Skynet found a method to scan poor Allison's brain and kinda downloaded her memories."

"It's possible," she agreed.

"It's a rather disturbing thought."

"Yes, it is... The other person I spoke to is Rita, the counselor. But she doesn't know anything more than that I'm Allison from Palmdale with massive amnesia."

"So I don't need to go back and wipe her memories," he smiled.

"Definitely not," she chuckled. "And Jody doesn't know anything either."

"Hm, Jody..." John murmured.

"It's good to see that humans are good and helpful. It encourages us to save them."

John gave her a short bitter smile. "Well, _some _humans are good and helpful, indeed. But not that particular human."

"What do you mean?"

"She had a frustrated face for a second when you realized who you were. So I scanned her mind."

"And?"

"And she wanted to use you to rob her parents' house. Maybe to leave you there to take the blame."

"Bitch," she said with a sad face. "Wait, her parents' house? She is from L.A.? But she told me she was from Michigan."

"She lied."

Cameron shook her head in disbelief. She seemed really sad. "So, that's why you implied we would go back to Palmdale."

"Yeah… Hey, cheer up," he said. "She helped you a lot, after all."

"True."

"Otherwise I don't know how I could have found you. But some people know her, as a part-time whore, and a guy could direct me to the halfway house."

"I had luck then. But I'd feel safer if we had all tracking devices. Small ones. I think we could easily prepare some for our team."

"You're right, Cam, and that was actually one of my reasons I visited Radio World. Now, why don't you tell me what happened to you in detail, until we get home."

* * *

"Have you seen my locker?" Cheri asked while they were walking back to the building.

"No, why?" Randy asked.

"Because someone opened that and hid some photos from Jordon, the girl who'd committed suicide and the counselor. They were snogging in the pictures. The same person had sprayed something on the wall inside but removed that. And I found this piece of paper."

She gave it to Randy.

"YOU'VE BEEN A BAD GIRL. PREPARE FOR THE WORST WITH YOUR FATHER."

"It's a pity you didn't leave it in the locker. It's no use giving it to the lab guys now."

"I'm sorry, I didn't think of that when I saw it."

"You said Jordon with Mr. Harris?", Camila asked.

"I said, counselor. I haven't told you his name," Cheri raised her eyebrows. "Why are you here, to begin with?"

The detectives exchanged a look. "You don't know?" Randy asked.

"No."

"Mr. Harris was murdered," he said.

"Oh," she said and stopped. She waited for a few seconds. "That explains why the pictures were in my locker. It was the killer, wasn't it?"

"We don't know," Randy said.

"You don't know?"

"No. Not for sure."

"But the pictures of Mr. Harris were in my locker. And Mr. Harris is dead."

"That could mean a lot, or it could mean nothing," Randy retorted.

Cheri raised her eyebrows again. "That doesn't sound very scientific."

"Because it isn't," Randy replied dryly.

"The thing is," Camila interrupted, noticing that Randy's reply might have sounded a little harsh, "that it is quite reasonable to assume that the homicide is somehow linked with the photos in your locker. But a cop, during an investigation, simply can't afford to be stuck with one fancy idea just because it seems so obvious. We need to go over and over again on all possibilities giving a tiny chance even to the most unlikely ones. People often make the mistake that they fall in love with their first idea, thereby failing to recognize the more plausible ones."

"Oh, I see," Cheri replied. "I'm starting to get what you mean. Am I in trouble? Because what you've just said implies that you consider the possibility that I'm the murderer."

"We do," Randy said. "Or to put it in another way, we cannot exclude that entirely. Nonetheless, I personally don't believe you just shot somebody."

"Me neither," Camila said. "So, relax."

"I can't," Cheri retorted. "I am the killer's target somehow. And so is my father."

"Not again," Camila sighed. "What is he doing by the lockers now?"

"Who? That grumpy asshole?" Randy asked.

"Yeah. I don't know why but he can't stand us, Homicide cops."

Officer Jackson threw a hostile look at them when they got close. "Are you gonna search the lockers one by one?"

"No, only this one," Randy replied.

Jackson sneered. "Wow, your costume party was interrupted?"

"Listen," Randy snapped. "None of your business how I dress, wherever I go, or what I have for breakfast. Do you get me, _patrolman_?"

"Whoa, whoa," Camila said. "Everybody calm down. Please."

She put on her thin thread gloves. "Could you call the lab guys here? This locker needs to be searched for fingerprints."

"Certainly, _detective_," Jackson said with a sarcastic tone in his voice, then left.

"Asshole," Randy sighed. Camila smiled.

"Could you give me the key," she reached her hand towards Cheri.

"Can you smell the thinner?" Cheri asked when the locker was open.

"Nitro thinner, yes," Camila replied.

"You're right," Randy agreed. "Something had been painted on here but it was removed not long ago."

"Wichita," Cheri replied.

"What?"

"That was painted there. With the same letter types that had been used to drive Jordon Cowan into desperation."

"And we've got two photos here with Mr. Harris," Randy said. "I assume that girl is Jordon."

"Yes, it's her."

"We'll look at the pictures later on," Camila said. "First, they need to be checked. Not that I think they'll find any fingerprints on those."

"Yeah, a guy who elaborated a plan like this probably made sure not to leave anything suspicious behind," Randy grimaced.

The forensic guys arrived and started to investigate the locker. Cedric also joined them with a black-haired boy. He showed Camila a paper folder.

"I'm coming from Ms. Holt," he said. "And she told me to give this to one Cecilia Rodriguez. Do you know anyone with this name?" he smirked.

"Yeah, it's me," Camila chuckled.

"Ms. Holt has a terrible memory for names," Cheri added. "We met a few times and she always called me Charlotte."

"And I am Martin for her," the black-haired guy added.

"Anyway, in fact he is Morris Martinez," Cedric introduced the guy with a smile. "He confirmed that he was speaking with Cheri Westin... wait a minute you should be Cheri Westin," he addressed the blonde.

"I am. Hi, Morris."

"Hi."

"After that," Cedric continued, "Morris saw Cheri open her locker, getting pale and running away. That was about the same time when Mr. Harris got shot."

"Thank you Morris," Cheri smiled sarcastically. "They started to think that I was the murderer."

"No, we didn't say that," Randy disagreed.

"I was only telling the truth," Morris shrugged.

* * *

"Hungry?" Kacy asked Sarah. "Split my jell-O with you"

Sarah smiled and shook her head. "Where's Trevor?"

"He went to go get me some real food. He's the baby daddy... In case you didn't figure that out," she said with an awkward smile.

"You never mentioned him."

Kacy sighed. "We've been on and off. He freaked when I got pregnant... But now he's here."

She touched her belly. "I don't know. I just want life to be perfect for him, you know? Didn't you feel that way?"

Sarah didn't say anything; she tried to avoid her dark thoughts being reflected on her face.

"Don't get me wrong. I'm not an idiot. I know it'll never be perfect. It's just... right now in there no one's ever made fun of him, turned him down for a date. How long does he have, really, until he figures out how hard it can all be?"

Sarah hung her head. "_Yes, how hard it can all be_," she thought. "_If Judgement Day comes, for example._"

Trevor came back with sandwiches. Sarah stood up but he gave one small package to her.

"Uh, uh. Sit. Eat. I insist."

Sarah sat back.

"Thank you," Kacy said.

"You like tri-tip?" he asked, looking at Sarah. "I grill a mean tri-tip. We could do a barbecue. With you and the kids... John and ... what's the girl's name?"

"Cameron," Kacy said.

"I can't wait to meet 'em," he continued. "If you want, I can take John to the range with me sometime."

"He's not much of a golfer," Sarah said.

"Me neither. Guns."

"Trevor's a cop," Kacy said with a frown.

"Detective. LAPD," he said. "Homicide Special Section."

Sarah couldn't hide her concerns that also reflected on her face. Fortunately, the doctor came in.

"We got the results. Cells were all maternal. The baby's fine. We need to keep you overnight, but you can go home tomorrow."

"I knew it," Kacy said with a broad smile. "He's a fighter, this kid."

Trevor gently placed a kiss on her head. "Just like his mama." He turned to Sarah. "Fancy a coffee?"

* * *

"So. Who are you, really?" Trevor asked while they were slowly walking towards the coffee machine. "I've never heard of you. Suddenly you're Kacy's best friend."

Sarah stretched her arms. "I'm just a neighbor."

"Sorry. Cop brain," he smiled. "Stresses her, you know. My job. You'd think having a cop around would make her feel safe. She's afraid it'll follow me back home."

"Does it?"

"I can protect her. It's your family, right? You do what it takes."

Sarah nodded.

His phone rang. "Sorry... Yeah... Right." He hung up. "There was a robbery/homicide downtown. I'm gonna have to take off."

"What about tomorrow? She's gonna need a ride," she asked.

"I'll be here," he stated. "I just... I hate for her to spend the night alone."

She sighed. "I'll stay. Until you'll come back."

"Thank you very much. I really appreciate it.

Kacy woke up when Sarah went back. "Where's Trevor?"

"He was called into work. Be back tomorrow to take you home," Sarah replied. "What's wrong?"

"It wasn't him that freaked out," Kacy admitted. "It was me. When I found out I was pregnant."

"Cop thing. He told me," Sarah nodded.

"Yeah. Cop thing," Kacy said bitterly. "It's kinda cool and sexy when you're a 25-year-old pastry chef making gourmet doughnuts at this hip cop hangout in Silverlake... When you think about breast-feeding your baby boy next to the walkie and the 9 millimeter..."

"Still, he's a good man," she stated. "He'll be a good dad.

"Kacy, I have to tell you something."

"Yes?"

Sarah shook her head and tears started rolling from her eyes. She almost told the truth about Kyle but she changed her mind. "_Maybe_," she thought, "_maybe John and Cameron can save Kyle. If I tell her he's dead that might cause complications._"

"It's John's father, isn't it?" Kacy asked softly.

"Yes," Sarah replied in a shaky voice. "I made a terrible mistake."

"Oh, dear, you don't have to tell me."

"He left because of me," Sarah lied. "And I let him go."

"I hope he'll come back to you one day. You'd deserve it," Kacy said sturdily.

Sarah just nodded, with tears continuing to roll on her face, but couldn't say anything. "_Oh yeah, I'd fucking deserve it._"

* * *

Randy went back to the office, the two remaining detectives found an empty room to record Cheri's story. She told them that her father used to be a semi-professional gambler in Kansas. Illegal, of course, having trouble with the local mafia after a while. They fled to L.A. but someone obviously found her. In her despair she had the idea to kill herself, thereby also protecting her father.

When they finished they left the school and Cedric offered Cheri to drive her home.

"A nice story you'd presented," Camila said in the car after a while. "That would trick 9 people out of ten. Bad news: I'm the tenth."

"I don't know what you're talking about..." Cheri started but Camila interrupted.

"You lied to me. I want to know why."

Cheri gulped.

"It's not personal," Camila continued. "But we cannot use police resources to contact the police in Kansas, let alone the Feds. And we cannot waste resources to give you protection against your fictional mafia."

"You promised to help me," Cheri said defiantly.

"Yes, I did. But you lied to us."

"What if I go up the roof again and jump down."

"It's up to you. I'm not gonna climb up again for you."

Cheri sighed. Her eyes met Camila's in the mirror. Those olive green eyes were not at all kind and warm anymore. They were cold as ice.

"What if you tell us your real problem," Cedric suggested.

"You would think I'm a lunatic."

"Try us," he said. "We've heard lots of weird stories that just turned out to be true at the end of the day. More than you could imagine."

"To begin with," Camila said, "what does Wichita mean?"

Cheri sighed again. "That's the place I was born in... before... before Judgement Day."

Camila and Cedric exchanged a look. The silence was awkward.

"The question is," Camila started slowly, "which Judgement Day? You definitely weren't born before 1997, you are too young for that."

* * *

**Author's notes**

Cheri Westin's character was originally intended to play a larger role in Season 1, but due to the writer's strike, her subplot was not elaborated. Kristina Apgar, who played Cheri was busy by the time the production of Season 2 was started (with the TV series called Privileged) so her role was not resumed. It is known, however, that Cheri would have been the victim of the mysterious blackmailer who stood behind Jordon Cowan's suicide. The dark secret of Cheri is unknown so I took the liberty to create a possible subplot for her character.

Interestingly, the location of the FBI raid changed back to North Hollywood from Reseda again. Let's assume Reseda was the newsreader's mistake. :)

This was probably the last chapter being quite close to the original storyline.

Now a question to anybody who is more familiar with LA than I am. Could you spot where the Weaver residence was? I'd vote for Bel Air.

Again, big thanks to Anticipation of a new lover's who helped me with the proofreading.

If you liked this chapter please leave a comment and/or write a few words for review. I'd really appreciate it! :)


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